


To Catch a Daughter, One must...

by ftbprotocol



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drama, Father - Daughter Relationship, Gen, Kidnapping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-01-04 17:40:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 28,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12173637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ftbprotocol/pseuds/ftbprotocol
Summary: A variety of AU one-shots where in canon Leia stayed a secret, but in these stories did not. Because there needs to be more Leia and Vader fic!Ch 7: ...Let Kenobi Escape: You may think that Leia ought to prevail, and escape back to the rebellion. Darth Vader allowing them all to go, Kenobi dead as distraction.But there’s no happy endings, not here and not now, this tale is all sorrows and woes.





	1. ...Recognize a Droid

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Intrepid Hero's (sparklight) concept and Queens Knights and Pawns' (chancecraz) Leia. Both excellently written and left me wanting more.
> 
> Beta'd by me, myself and I so apologies if I missed anything. Me and myself take no responsibility.

Summary: Threepio relays a request by a mysterious informant to meet the newly elected Senator Leia Organa.

 

 

“Not much farther now, Princess!” The gold protocol droid fussed as he tottered down the plush Senate hallway.

Behind him, the Royal Princess of Alderaan, Senator of the Galactic Empire, followed at a stately pace. Her flowing white gown was a simple piece that lacked the complex flourishes common to most Senators. As the youngest serving Senator in centuries, she used her fame to subtly protest the extravagances of her older peers through her choice in attire. It had earned her few friends these past months.

Being a Senator was not at all what she’d imagined. When she wasn’t sitting through frustratingly dreary senate sessions, she was arranging meetings and dinners with various colleagues from committees; all in the name of getting a feel for their opinions on the current state of the Empire and its policies.  It was too soon for any of the more well-known Senators like Mon Mothma to officially take her under their wing but overtures were starting to be made as she proved herself. It was all so frustratingly slow.

It certainly didn’t help that the media kept referring to her as a ‘princess playing dress-up’. Why they focused on such frivolous things like what she wore and who she was last seen with – _‘Is this the Future Prince of Alderaan?’_ – was beyond her understanding. There were serious problems in the Empire and injustices rampant in the outer-rim that were far more important.

Ahead of her, the droid paused at a blank wall between two large paintings of former famous senators. With an almost silent click, the wooden panel opened to reveal a hidden turbo-lift. Her eyebrows rose in surprise at the luck of having the lift there when they arrived, while internally she scoffed at the purposeful camouflage. While she’d never seen a turbo-lift intentionally hidden before, it fit with the eccentricities and paranoia of the longer serving senators. Usually the hidden panels only contained alcohol or important documents.

Her new protocol droid, C-3P0, entered the lift.

He had been a gift from her father when she was elected Senator for Alderaan and she was still getting used to his quirks. He was surprisingly knowledgeable about the Senate even if he professed to have never served a Senator before.

Leia Organa moved to follow him but stopped at the threshold. The lift was a striking contrast to the extravagant hallway he had been leading her down. Drab grey walls, a floor scuffed by the tread of many droids, and barely enough room for the two of them.

“Is everything alright, Princess?” C-3P0 asked.

Leia glanced around and it struck her just how empty the hallway had become. She did not remember encountering anyone for the last few passageways Threepio had turned down. There was always someone: a droid, an aid or a junior legislator rushing from office to office. A slight feeling of apprehension awakened in her as she returned her attention to the lift and the waiting Threepio.

“I assure you, Princess, while this lift may lack the usual ornamentation, it is fully functional.” He backed himself against the side to give her as much room as he could.

She hesitated for a moment more before shaking off the absurd feeling. This was C-3P0, he had been a loyal servant of the Antilles and Organa families for as long as she could remember. It was ridiculous to think that he would be leading her astray. He’d been unable to tell her any details on who she was meeting but she’d gotten the impression that it was someone with information vital to the Alliance. The thrill she’d felt at finally being in a position to help others, to be a part of her Father’s organization had led her to jump at the opportunity.

Leia joined him in the cramped lift, the door practically closing on her heel as she entered. She shot Threepio a quick look in consternation but he was busy fussing with the controls. She decided not to reprimand him. As a service lift, it was designed for the quick, efficient movement of beings. Not to prevent her from changing her mind and leaving.

The lift began its decent with a lurch and began picking up speed. Leia crossed her arms to ward off a sudden chill, the temperature controls in the lift obviously not set for human comfort.

Threepio began to apologize for the temperature which quickly transitioned into chatter about the many uses of the lift. Leia let the words wash over her as she tried to steady her nerves. The closer she came to meeting the mysterious informer the stronger the feeling of unease became. She did her best to bury it, convinced that it was simply due this being her first time being alone in a situation like this. If the meeting went sideways a small holdout blaster, well hidden in the flow of her dress on her upper arm, would quickly disprove any assumption of her being a helpless princess.

On her next exhale she realized she could see her breath, a slight cloud forming in front of her face. She looked to the control panel and saw they were still descending at an alarming rate, deeper than she had ever been before.

“Oh my!” Threepio exclaimed, “I’m terribly sorry, Princess. I did not realize it would be this cold. Oh, I should have known I’d be no good at this.”

“It’s alright Threepio,” she hastily assured him. If there was one thing she’d learned fast about him, it was his tendency to go on bleak rants about his own perceived failures and inadequacies. For her own sanity, she’d taken to reassuring him whenever she could.

“Oh, you are too kind Mistress.”

Leia stumbled and braced herself against the wall as the lift abruptly decelerated. Threepio appeared to barely feel it. She assumed that this proved that the lift was meant for droids, not Senators. Not that any Senator she’d met would even consider getting into something like this, believing it beneath them.

The lift doors opened to a maintenance room empty of its inhabitants. The chill in the air continued, with each exhale resulting in a small visible puff. Dread assaulted her yet again and she hesitated on the threshold. The room had the appearance of being hastily exited, droid parts and repair equipment scattered at various desks. The lighting was fragmented, and shone directly on each workstation, causing the edges of the room to fall in deep shadow. Not all of the stations were lit which made for a very half hazard lighting of the room.

“How macabre,” Threepio commented.

She’d never thought about it, but supposed seeing so many body parts of different droids would be disturbing to a droid like Threepio. “Shall we, Princess?” he crowded behind her.

She pushed herself forward, his usually comforting and familiar frame suddenly not so. She had a brief flash of Threepio dragging her into the room whether she wanted to or not. Her steps picked up slightly as she dismissed the idea from her mind.

As soon as Threepio exited the lift the doors closed with a very final hiss and click.

Her heart beat double time as she scanned the room. She crossed her arms once again to both ward off the chill and to finger the hidden blaster up her sleeve. She was starting to have a **very** bad feeling about this.

As she scanned the room, Threepio came up beside her. “Hm, they appear to be late. I’m terribly sorry Princess. The nerve! Making a Senator of the Empire …” Threepio’s voice nattered on.

The spotty lighting allowed for many hiding spots for the informer, and she admired their caution. They had a clear view of her and could study her, while she could see nothing at all. And she was certain that the person she was supposed to meet **was** here, whatever Threepio said. She could practically **feel** the eyes on her, assessing. Her grip on the blaster tightened.

She narrowed her eyes and frowned, trying to determine the source of the feeling. It was something her combat instructor had always praised her on, her ability to know when someone was watching her and readying an ambush. This wasn’t quite the same, she didn’t get the feeling of an impending attack, but it was definitely evaluating her.

Just as her eyes started to hover at a point midway into the room at a darkened station, a voice rumbled, “Greetings, Senator Organa of Alderaan.”

She startled slightly at the voice, dark and rich, that reverberated through the empty room. It sounded obviously male but they were using a vocoder to disguise their voice, making it difficult to tell their species or sex. Somehow, she had a feeling that it was no coincidence the being spoke just as she began to focus on the darkened space.

Threepio took a half step forward and answered, “Greetings, I am C-3P0, human-cyborg relations. Princess, may I introduce you to our contact.” He turned as if suddenly remembering something and apologized, “Oh dear, I’m afraid they never gave a name.”

Leia nodded in acknowledgment, satisfied that at least Threepio recognized the informant.  “It is a pleasure, I hope we both find this meeting to be satisfactory,” she said while attempting to discern their shape in the deep shadow.

“Of that, I have no doubt.” They answered confidently.

It was difficult to discern any emotion in the voice and perhaps it was this, combined with her nervous dread that had failed to dissipate, in addition to the uncomfortable cold, that caused her to bluntly state, “Threepio informs me that you have highly sensitive information vital to our cause.”

There was a weighted pause before a reply. “Dispensing with the pleasantries, already?” She flushed faintly at the slight amusement she assumed was there, even if it wasn’t in their voice. She drew in a sharp breath to retort, _if they make some comment about her age or ability --_   They continued, “I approve.” -- And let it out in a rush of surprise.

She nodded tightly and gripped her elbow and the blaster trying to cover her embarrassment and suppress a shiver.

The being apparently noticed, despite her attempts to hide how uncomfortable she was, “My apologies for meeting you here. To minimize suspicion it was necessary.”

Leia nodded seriously and with a quick glance around the room, the pieces slotted into place, “And if anyone wonders why I came here, maintenance for Threepio is the perfect cover, that’s why you sent your message through him.” And how they’d given the message to Threepio in the first place, they must be a mechanic or work closely with the droids here.

She had the oddest feeling that her contact was suddenly incredibly pleased. “Correct, Your Highness.” And, although her feelings of dread hadn’t left, she could swear that the room almost felt slightly warmer for a moment.

What she didn’t voice was the fear that came with an additional realization; the lack of surveillance in the droid service areas would make it difficult to find her if she never returned to the Senate floor.

She tried to shake off the cloying fear and bring the conversation back to her original statement, “I understand the necessity. Now, do you have a data card or message I can deliver? I cannot be down here long.”

Her eyes were beginning to adjust to the room’s spotty lighting as she continued to stare at the location the voice was coming from. To her slight confusion, she could just about make out a few lights, glowing faintly, just below her eye level.

“I believe there has been a slight misunderstanding.” Her breath caught, unease rising. “I have nothing for your…” The dark shape paused and continued with an unmistakeable sneer, “… **cause**.”  They paused again and rumbled darkly in a voice that reverberated through her, caressed her, “ **You** are all that interests me.”

Leia narrowed her eyes and fingered the safety on her blaster, “Me?”

_Was this a trap?_

With more confidence than she felt, she continued, “what do you want?” Why would anyone be solely interested in her? Unless… they planned to use her to find other members of the Alliance. She took a quick step back, intent on escaping into the lifts, if possible.

“The lift is locked.” The being quickly interpreted her movements.

She glanced at Threepio, suddenly struck by his uncharacteristic silence this whole time, “Is there a problem, Princess?” he put a hand on her shoulder as if to steady her, “there’s no need to worry, our contact is trustworthy and means no harm, believe me.”

A feeling of helplessness reared up, panic threatening but she pushed it down. There would be no help from him, she could tell.

She took deep, measured breaths, fighting the surge in adrenaline. Her combat training helping her calm the sudden fight-or-flight response and keeping her mind on task.

She ripped her eyes back to the shadows the being was hiding in, “How dare you. Show yourself!” She commanded, hoping they’d reveal themselves and give her something to shoot at. Until then, there was no point in revealing her blaster and wasting her (likely only) shot.

“Oh dear.” Threepio worried, “please excuse her, it’s been a ver-“ he tried to diffuse the tension but was interrupted by the mysterious contact.

“All I want,” they replied to her earlier demand, “is to exchange information-”

“I’ll never-“ she cried, indignant that they believed she’d betray the Alliance so easily.

“-about **you**.” They finished with authority over her protest.

“W-What?” She stuttered, off balance. “What could you possibly know that I don’t?”

“Answer my questions,” they spoke in a softened, persuasive tone, “and you will see.” A part of her doubted that but another was hopeful that their continued lack of hostility, and insistence on only wanting information, would hold true. Regardless, their tactics left something to be desired. She had no intention of revealing information about herself to this stranger.

“You do not know what happened to your parents.” The dark shape stated, the slight movements of the lights coming more and more into focus.

She stared at him, completely thrown by their non-sequitur. Her shock quickly wore off, however, and she replied hotly, “How did you know I’m adopted?” Trying to cover how unnerved she was by the question.

“So,” they said in a pleased rumble, “it is true.”

She blinked, shocked that they had tricked her into revealing something so easily. _You fool!_ She cursed herself. She should have assumed they were talking about her living Father, not her birth parents. She wasn’t even sure why she made that assumption in the first place.

“What of it?” She snapped in annoyance. “If you think you can blackmail me-“

“Do you remember your mother?” They interrupted her. “Your **real** mother.”

Leia sucked in a sharp breath and smoothed out her expression, attempting to reveal nothing to this being.

The darkness of the room began to press down on her, the room appearing to shrink. She pursed her lips and refused to answer, to unknowingly give anything away if she could help it. Her birth parent’s names were taboo, her queries always met with a, “Not yet, Leia,” or a, “It’s not safe, Leia.” 

“Adopted at the formation of the Empire,” they coaxed, the darkness gaining heaviness, demanding she answer. And then, almost as if they’d known her thoughts, “A child with parents too dangerous to name,” the voice, a dark velvet, seemed to surround her. Hidden beneath it, a durasteel grip she couldn’t escape.

She could only stare at the dark form before her, vision tunneling. A shape was starting to become visible to her in the shadows; the outline of a larger shadow that swallowed the light.

Leia felt as if some great pressure was weighing down on her, making her thoughts sluggish, focus somehow difficult. She tried to keep her mind clear, as she had been taught, but a stray one drifted to the surface, carried by an unbidden force.

She may no longer remember her mother’s name, but she remembered her face: a kiss on the forehead, a loving and beautiful smile, kind but sad.

Suddenly, the pressure was gone, her ability to focus returned. Across the room multiple light fixtures exploded in a crash, throwing more of the room into darkness. The remaining ones swayed, as if caught in an unknown breeze. The droid parts began rattling off the work stations, falling to the floor with a screech of metal.

The air was permeated with anger and hatred so thick that she began to shake with it as well.

One of the lights swung towards her interrogator’s location.

“My word!” Threepio exclaimed.

Leia let out a cry of disbelief as the dark outline revealed a black cape, black body armour, and a control panel.

“L-Lord Vader!”

 _Kssshhhhh_ , the sound of his breather, somehow silenced until now, was thunderous even over the screech of tortured metal. How had she not recognized his voice!? It had obviously been modified to an extent, but still!

His identity revealed; Lord Vader stepped forward to the edge of the light. He bled seamlessly into the darkness behind him, the lights on his chest, the lights she’d found so incongruous, blinking innocently. As if they hadn’t been an early warning that she’d missed. Both of his hands were clenched into fists at his sides.

As suddenly as it had begun, the rattling throughout the room stopped, lights swaying gently in the aftermath.

Leia realized with horror that while she may not have explicitly stated her affiliation with the Alliance, he obviously had known and set her up. _But how?_ Did he kill the mechanic and take their place in order to find out who the traitor in the Senate was? But from what she’d understood, the Emperor didn’t consider the Alliance a credible threat yet; convinced that some new military venture would keep the Empire safe.

With no other option for escape that she could see, in one quick motion, Leia ripped the blaster from its holster. She felt a brief flare of victory at Vader’s twitch in surprise as it was revealed from her sleeve. But before she could bring it up and take aim, her wrist was caught in a vise-like grip.

Leia turned, shocked and cried, “Threepio!?”

“I’m sorry, Princess, but I will not allow you to harm the maker.” She stared at him in blank shock, her grip on the blaster loosening.

“You knew.” She accused softly, “You **purposefully** led me to him.” The metal hand on her shoulder no longer a reassuring weight but an immobile grip - restraining her.

“Of course,” Threepio agreed, as if he hadn’t just revealed something completely devastating, “There really is no need to worry, Princess.”

“No need to-“ indignant, she cut off as the blaster was suddenly ripped from her grip. Her mouth hung open in shock as she watched it sail into Vader’s waiting hand.

She felt a wave of light-headedness assault her, a foreign feeling of triumph reared up as he intoned, “Your **real** name is Leia Skywalker. And you will be coming with me.”


	2. ...Recognize a Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While trying to get the location of the Rebel Base from Leia on the Death Star, Darth Vader gets more than he bargained for in a memory of her mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When reading the chapter Leia remembers her torture on the Death Star in "Of Queens, Knights, and Pawns" by chancecraz this popped into my head. Wasn't planning on tackling the torture scene until much later but here we are.
> 
> Some scenes and dialogue are borrowed from the 1976 script of A New Hope on IMSDb.com.  
> Also unbeta'd so apologies if I missed something.
> 
> PS: Thanks to all who left a comment! :D Glad to see all the Leia & Vader love.

Senator Leia Organa of Alderaan marched, head unbowed, out the charred entrance hatch to the Tantive IV. She paused momentarily at the threshold and breathed the crisp recirculated air of the Stardestroyer, a welcome change from the scorched interior of her ship. The nauseating stench of discharged blaster fire, charred flesh, melted plasteel and excrement had been nauseating. It had taken all of her strength to ignore the fallen soldiers that littered the corridors as she was brought before the Imperial in charge.

It appeared most of the crew had been killed.

A part of her had not been surprised to see the Imperial in question was Lord Vader, conferring with his officers. The attack that came without even a token offer of surrender had caught the whole bridge by surprise; secure in the belief that they had escaped the Empire’s notice.

Speaking with Lord Vader, and not staring at the dead Alliance officers spread behind him, victims of his brand of interrogation, had been extremely difficult; A fate that could have been hers, if she wasn’t a member of the Senate.

The only way she was keeping her sanity, and not letting fear overwhelm her, was in the confidence that they hadn’t yet found the plans she’d hidden. And if they couldn’t find the plans, then they just attacked a consular ship with no provocation. They didn’t have a legal reason to keep her detained.

A small part of her was hopeful she’d be let go, if no evidence was found, a paltry cover story their only excuse for killing all aboard. Such blatantly false cover-ups only aided the Alliance in the long run, as people leaked the truth and exposed the hypocrisies of the Empire.

It was a small, faint hope. This was Death Squadron, Lord Vader’s personal command; there would be no leaks from this ship.

“Get moving,” a disdainful voice, one of her stormtrooper guards, ordered while nudging her sharply with his blaster. She grimaced and stumbled but managed to catch herself. As she was marched down the boarding ramp, she heard **his** hated voice echo out of the ship.

“Send a distress signal and then inform the senate that all aboard were killed!”

She clenched her fists. That the Empire even pretended the law was absolute and applied to all equally, was a joke. Especially when someone like Lord Vader could just do as he pleased.

Her escort of stormtroopers led her through the cavernous hanger. On the periphery, maintenance crews were working on various Tie Fighter models while a few shuttles were undergoing pre-flight checks.

As she looked around, she noticed that she couldn’t see any other prisoners being taken off of the Tantive IV. Had they really killed all aboard except her? Not that they’d be able to tell the Empire much, as most of the crew had been Alderaani soldiers, unfamiliar with the current Alliance Base, but the Empire didn’t know that. Somehow, had Lord Vader known that she was the only one worth taking alive?

The troopers marched her towards a corridor, heading deep into the belly of the ship. The walls were the typical featureless grey. A small mouse droid rolled past, the only distraction from her swirling thoughts on the long march.

In what felt like no time at all they reached the detention center, all hard black lines and backlit by a faint ominous red, and shoved her in.

Leia landed on her knees with a grunt, the door closing and locking with a sharp hiss. Looking around the tiny holding cell the reality that she was soon to be presumed dead by the rest of the Senate hit her. They wouldn’t dare to treat with such disrespect otherwise. The tiny cell was a simple square with a drain in the corner. It didn’t even have the semblance of a bed. If the other Senators knew this could also be their fate…

She chose the cleanest looking corner and sat down, knees against her chest and closed her eyes. If she was presumed dead, then they could do anything they wanted, there was no law protecting the ‘dead’ from interrogation. She took a shaky breath and swallowed down the fear that threatened. If she was lucky, and she could convince them she didn’t know much of value, they’d simply execute her.

_I’m sorry Papa,_ she thought, tears threatening, _I failed you._

She shook her head and scrunched her eyes, forcing the tears back. No. She couldn’t break down yet. There was still a long fight ahead of her and she would need all of her strength. She brought her knees down and entered a meditative pose.

She had been coached on how to resist interrogation, all high level members of the Alliance were, but Vader was in a league of his own. She’d heard horror stories of his tactics but had never seriously believed she’d ever be in this position. And she knew it would be Vader interrogating her, he was obviously personally leading the search for the Death Star plans.

Her only hope lay in her message being received, and that the droids were never found.

She did her best to clear her mind; going through the familiar exercises she’d been taught. Any moment now, Lord Vader could walk into her cell.

An unknown amount of time passed.

…

The wait in the holding cell slowly became excruciating.

That they hadn’t taken her to an interrogation room yet must’ve meant they were still looking for the plans. She had hoped that if the Empire didn’t find any evidence on the Tantive IV they’d think they had the wrong ship. But with Vader’s legendary ability to follow leads, he must have figured out she put them in the escape pod. Nothing else made sense.

She had no sense of how long she’d been in here. They were barely feeding her, and when they did it was in irregular intervals, making it hard to measure time.

Calm was becoming more difficult to maintain, she wished they would just hurry up and get it over with. Vader’s continued absence was both bolstering her hope and wracking her nerves, making the wait intolerable.

…

The transfer to the Death Star hammered home just how massive the battle station was. That a Stardestroyer could sit comfortably in a hangar, and in what looked like one of many, was staggering. Never mind the rumoured firepower it contained, there had to be enough stormtroopers and equipment to invade a whole planet!

Now more than ever, she was resolved. If Vader hoped to break her spirit in a show of the Empire’s might he was sadly mistaken!

There was one other fact she noticed on the long march. No other prisoners were transferred, she was truly alone.

…

Princess Leia Organa, officially ‘deceased’ Senator, sat stoically on what passed for a bench in her cold little cell. The interrogation ward was kept at a low temperature; she’d spent the last few hours on the edge of shivering. She clenched and unclenched her hands, waiting. Within her, she focused her mind on nothing, repeating over and over who she was and what her mission had been. She was a member of the Galactic Senate on a diplomatic mission from Alderaan.

Soon, she somehow knew, soon Darth Vader would come interrogate her. The waiting was over.

She started slightly as the entrance to her cell opened with an ominous hiss. She forced her hands to unclench and stared defiantly as Darth Vader, torture droid in tow, entered her cell. Two stormtroopers took up position on either side of the entrance.

“Now Your Highness, we will discuss the location of your hidden Rebel base.” He threatened, door closing and sealing her in with him.

Fear began to rise, her earlier determination beginning to crumble, as reality once again asserted itself. The torture droid gave off a steady beeping-whirring sound, hypodermic needle at the ready.

Already, she could feel the darkness of the room closing in on her, the lack of space to move suffocating. Lord Vader stood there, hands on his belt, observing her. She jutted her chin up and tried to return the stare as defiantly as she could manage, blinking rapidly to clear the intruding darkness from her vision.

His black helmet tilted, as if considering something, and then ordered, “Proceed,” waving the droid forward.

She did her best not to move as the droid floated uncomfortably close, unable to stop herself from leaning back slightly. A hatch opened and a claw, quick as a snake, shot out and latched onto her arm. She was unable to tear her eyes away as the hypodermic needle extended towards her.

She didn’t know what was in it, but she desperately didn’t want to find out. In her peripheral vision, she noticed her hands were beginning to shake, betraying her fear.

There was a sharp prick of pain. She steeled herself for what was to come: pain, numb uncaring, a talkative high, all were potential outcomes of the drug.

A wave of dizziness assaulted her; her vision and focus beginning to blur. Her awareness of the whirring torture droid receded. The dark shape of Lord Vader moved towards her, arm extended. She swayed, no longer able to hold herself up. A black gloved hand, stark against the white of her shoulder, eased her down.

The haziness stayed with her when her head hit an unforgiving surface. Darkness overcame her vision.

In the distance, she could hear someone begin to shriek. Under that high pitched sound, the loud, unvarying sound of Vader’s breathing, regular as a metronome.

The moment seemed to stretch forever, the scream unending. She could barely focus on who she was, where she was, anymore. A voice broke through the noise: demanding, coaxing, and ordering.

_What is the location of your Base?_

The sound reverberated through her, overwhelming all other thought. She tried to shy away from it, knowing she couldn’t obey. But everywhere she turned; there it was, demanding an answer.

_What is the location of your Base?_

The more she tried to run, the more hurtful and insistent it became, flashes of pain, of her own agonized screams, assaulted her. She knew it was imperative she didn’t answer, but the drug made it difficult to remember why. She wanted the voice to stop hounding her, for the pain to stop.

Eventually, unable to stand anymore, she tried to give it an answer, anything to make it go away.

_It’s on Coruscant,_ she thought, only to be viciously swatted down.

_The Base, **give it** to me._ Impatience began to rise in the dark voice, their annoyance at not receiving an answer immediately plain. A kind of pressure kept increasing, driving her to towards the truth.

Getting desperate, she pictured the next place that came to mind, not letting herself think of the true meaning of the demands; the Royal Palace on Alderaan, resplendent on a sunny day, a safe base to always come home to.

She whimpered as the image was shredded, pressure and panic building in her mind as the voice growled, **_Your_** _Base!_

Perhaps it was the emphasis on ‘ _your_ ’, or it could have been the genuinely terrifying, deep voice, hemming her in, or the desire to get away from the pain, to hide in a place no one could find her, but a memory bubbled up. It was a strong memory, one from happier times.

Back when she still had a mother.

\---

_“Leia! Where are you little one?” A melodic female voice called. Leia crossed her arms and frowned down at her crossed legs._

_She was in her secret place, a dry alcove beneath the roots of a great tree on the edge of the palace gardens, grown wild. She was sitting on a blanket she’d smuggled in, along with some of her favorite, forbidden, toys. In her clenched fists was a makeshift wooden sword, the reason she was hiding._

_She’d been watching the palace guard training, copying their movements with her sword. She’d skipped her etiquette lesson -because what was the point of such boring classes! - when she’d caught sight of her adopted father, an angry frown on his face, looking for her. He spotted her before she could find something to hide behind. He’d shouted at her and, knowing she was in deep trouble, she’d run to her safe place, her secret base, to hide the sword._

_“There you are, Leia.” A relieved voice said, parting the curtain of vines to reveal her mother’s concerned face, kneeling in the dirt._

_She looked tired and worn, as she often did these days, and when her eyes landed on the sword clutched in Leia’s small hands, her face morphed into complete sorrow._

_Tears sprang to Leia’s eyes and she cried, “Mama—_

\---

**_No_ ** _._

The dark, angry voice was back, breaking her out of the treasured memory.

_That’s… that’s **impossible**. _

The pain-pressure on her mind receded, and with it some of the hazy, drugged confusion that had clouded her mind.

She was in an interrogation room, with Darth Vader, he was the voice, and he’d just reacted to the memory of her mother… her secret mother!

Alarm shot through her, impossible to hide from him.

_Who was that!_ He demanded, and she heard a distant shriek again. If it was something he wanted, she refused to give it to him!

A black rage brought darkness to her mind once again, smothering her. It was difficult to breathe. The image of her mother, in that moment, rose up once more, unbidden.

A screeching crash, a harsh mechanical squeal, broke through the darkness.

Then silence.

The voice, and the associated dark pressure, was gone. She could breathe again. She took a moment to sigh, grateful for the relief. But the danger had not yet passed, as badly as she wanted to believe it had. The desire to know what was happening gave her a small boost of energy.

Grimacing, Leia slowly opened her eyes, her whole body sore and sensitive to the slightest movement. Groggily, she frowned at two white shapes collapsed on the ground. Next to them, in multiple pieces, lay the shattered remains of a droid. Exhaustion weighing her down, at first she didn’t register the dark shape, clenched fists shaking.

She squinted up at Vader, not understanding what she was seeing.

In a blink, what seemed from one moment to the next, he was kneeling before her – _too close!_ \- and she flinched violently away, whimpering at the pain that shot through her.

He reached out a hand, almost (she swore her mind was playing tricks on her) hesitantly. She stared at it fear, waiting for the pain to start again, for the darkness to descend, for the voice to chase her through her memories, when it clenched into a fist, and disappeared from view.

He said something, but her ears were full of cotton, and all she could make out was a deep rumble that vibrated in her chest. She blinked, mind starting to go fuzzy once more.

He stood and turned, as if to leave, but paused at the collapsed white shapes.

_Stormtroopers?_ She frowned down at the white forms, trying to force her brain to make sense of what she was seeing.

She started and curled into herself as something warm was suddenly laid down over top of her, black gloves far too close. As the black shape, _Vader_ her mind tried to insist, pulled away her eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the scratchy blanket. However, the warmth was welcome in the cold cell, and helped tight muscles begin to relax.

Just as her eyes were falling shut, exhaustion weighing them down, she heard Darth Vader’s deep baritone hiss.

“They will pay **dearly** for this.”

 


	3. ...Alter the Deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leia decides she needs to save Luke from Darth Vader’s trap, leaving Han with Boba Fett.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Scenes and lines taken/paraphrased from the ESB script.  
> Song in the beginning from Netflix’s ‘A Series of Unfortunate Events’ that I attempted to make fit. These stories aren’t exactly a series of unfortunate events, more stories with unfortunate endings (for the heroine). Couldn’t stop my brain from trying to make the song fit Star Wars. Eventually I just had to say ‘good enough!’ Rhyming is hard. :P

_You may think Princess Leia should slip away, and save Luke below Cloud City._

_Darth Vader rejected, his son led astray; the trap met with adversity._

_But_ _there’s no happy ending_ _, not here and not now, this tale is all sorrows and woes._

_You may dream that justice and peace win the day, but that’s not how the story goes._

-Lyrics adapted from: [That's Not How The Story Goes](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rs96Ksod88M)

 

 

 

Leia, heart in her throat, watched helplessly as a huge metal tong descended into the circular vat. It lifted the steaming block of carbonite, Han frozen in a scream. Her eyes were fixed on it, unable to tear herself away, not until she knew. Not until there was some sign he survived.

Around the platform, Imperials watched the process, uncaring of the result. Only the bounty hunter, Boba Fett, shared her and Chewie’s desire for Han to live. But that was a cold comfort. Over the hiss of steam and whine of hydraulics the regular inhale and exhale of Darth Vader’s respirator, black form almost lost in the gloom, punctuated the sharp staccato of her heartbeat.

Multiple Ugnaughts rushed forward and pushed the block away from the large vat and towards the platform. They slid the coffin-like structure onto a hover-lift and attached an electronic control box. Task completed, they scuttled away. The so called ‘friend’ Lando Calrissian stepped forward and adjusted some knobs, examining the life signs.

She held her breath, waiting for the verdict, hope dangling by a thread. His arms snugly around her, she felt Chewie do the same.

Calrissian shook his head, and for a brief moment panic and heartache tore through her. A part of her reached for Han, desperate to sense the connection she’d begun to let herself feel for him. Not believing that he could be dead.

Unbeknownst to her, Darth Vader’s eyes jerked in her direction.

“Well, Calrissian, did he survive?” Vader’s deep, cold voice penetrated her panic.

 _Is he alive? He must be. Please let him survive!_ She prayed to whoever was listening.

“Yes, he’s alive,” Calrissian answered in clear relief, “And in perfect hibernation.”

Leia and Chewie both let out their breath in shared solace. Weak in the knees, she was more grateful than ever for Chewie’s support. Without him, there was no telling how she would be handling this moment.  Together, they would be trapped on this floating prison with Calrissian. Together, they would plan and organize their escape.

“He’s all yours bounty hunter.” Vader addressed Boba Fett, uncaring now that the experiment was a success.

Together, they would save Han.

Darth Vader turned and ordered, “Reset the chamber for Skywalker.”

Leia finally ripped her eyes away from Han to stare at Vader. She had forgotten, almost, that everything they had gone through on this wretched city was to entrap Luke. Would he really be so fool headed as to mount a rescue? She instantly dismissed the silly question. Of course he would. The real question was how would he even know to come? Vader was so sure that he would. And if he was ordering the chamber to be reset, did that mean…?

An Imperial officer approached and reported, “Skywalker has just landed, My Lord.”

_No…Luke!_

She steeled herself, pushing down the grief over Han as she had once done over the destruction of Alderaan. Later, she would allow herself to feel. Now was not the time for tears. She wrapped her anger around herself like a cloak of armour. If Luke was here her future was clear. Her focus had to be escape. Han was alive and Boba Fett would ensure it stayed that way, for now. But Luke…Luke needed her help.

Their stormtrooper guards began herding them towards the entrance to the factory, Chewie unwinding his arms from her. She gave him a determined look, hoping to convey to him that they needed to escape, and soon.

As they were pushed forward, Leia strained her ears to hear Vader’s response.

“Good. See to it that he finds his way here.” She managed to catch over the loud whirring of the carbonation chamber resetting.

She had to warn Luke. He was walking right into Vader’s trap. Somehow! Calrissian would transfer them back to their ‘room’, there had to be a way to overpower the guards. All they needed was a chance.

The plans beginning to whirl in her mind came to a screeching halt at Vader’s next order.

“Calrissian, take the Princess and the Wookiee to my ship.”

Indignation and fear shot through her, and for once she seemed to agree with Calrissian, given his outraged reply.

“You said they’d be left in the city under my supervision.”

Darth Vader turned to threaten Calrissian.

“I am altering the deal. Pray I don’t alter it any further.”

A spike of ice went down her back as she realized something deeply unsettling. Beyond briefly giving his attention to those he was giving orders to, Darth Vader had been watching her. It wasn’t until he’d had to turn more completely away from her to threaten Calrissian that she’d noticed the lack of… something hovering around her. But what could it mean? What more could he want from her?

Calrissian’s hand instinctively went to his throat. He grimaced, but joined them and the stormtrooper guard; escorting them to Darth Vader’s ship, of all places. She couldn’t help the sneer that formed on her face at Calrissian. So much for his assurance that Vader’s interest was solely focused on Luke.

As they were marched out of the room, now that she was aware of it, she felt Vader’s eyes on her once more, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up uncomfortably.

They were shepherded out of the factory; the crisp white halls a stark contrast to the dark, verging on pitch black carbonation chamber they had come from. It took her a moment to blink the spots from her eyes, momentarily blinded. Calrissian and the stormtroopers were joined by some of his men as they led them down the hall.

Ahead of her Chewie walked, Threepio hanging awkwardly from his back. At the front, she could see Calrissian urgently whispering to one of his men. She had a feeling he was up to something, but couldn’t bring herself to care, too focused on Luke and the danger he was walking into.

Luke was in the city now, according the Imperial Officer. That meant with every step they took away from the chamber, Luke took one towards them. There had to be some way she could warn him!

Ahead of them their escort paused, the sound of blaster fire echoing down the hall.

_He’s here!_

The stormtroopers around them picked up speed, shoving them first down one corridor then turning down another; obviously hoping to avoid the fire fight. Chewie and Leia dug their heels in as much as they could to slow them down.

As they neared the end of a hall, some instinct told her to turn around.

Her very being lit up at the sight of the unruly mop of blond hair, hope and fear warring within. “Luke! Luke, don’t –“ She dove towards him, desperate to reach him. A stormtrooper grabbed her roughly and pulled her away. “-it’s a trap!” She wrestled with the arms constraining her. She looked up just long enough to see Luke racing towards her and for one heart stopping second, their eyes met. 

The moment stretched, and in that instant, it seemed as if multiple futures played out before her. Different actions she could take from this point on, the possibilities too numerous for her to grasp; the very idea of what she was seeing too much to conceive. The stormtrooper jerked her back and through a door, breaking the moment.

Briefly, she managed to break free. She lunged back and gripped the edge of the door frame yelling, “It’s a trap!” before she was dragged through. The door sealed and locked her away from him.

In another time, in another place, that could have been the end of it. The last chance she had before his destined confrontation; before she was distracted by the chance to save Han. But in this moment in time, as she continued to struggle against the stormtrooper, an image stuck in her mind. Not of Luke frozen in carbonite, as she would’ve assumed, but of Luke trapped on the end of a gantry, Vader looming over him. Vader’s red lightsaber illuminated his terrified face, pain making him pale; and pressed protectively against his chest, the stump of his right hand.

Leia shook her head in denial; that would not happen. She refused to let that happen! Darth Vader would not take another of her loved ones from her. Not again!

Instinct screaming at her, she knew she only had one chance to make a difference, one chance before she lost him.

Leia went limp in the stormtrooper’s hold. Surprised, the trooper fumbled with her and was pulled off balance. An instant later, using her bent knees and lower center of gravity, Leia barreled into him and through a side door, seconds before it sealed shut, cutting them off from the others. Chewie’s cry of alarm cut short.

On the ground, they grappled for advantage, her cuffed hands making fighting difficult. Perhaps it was desperation, perhaps it was the heat of the moment, but she was able to leverage the blaster at just the right angle to get a fortunate shot off.

Leia lay there for a moment on top of the dead trooper, panting, thrilled at her victory.

Some would call the sequence of events luck. Some would say there’s no such thing as luck.

Hands still cuffed, she searched the trooper for the release key. When she didn’t find it, she let out a frustrated growl and grabbed the blaster. It was awkward, holding it like this would make aiming difficult, but she would make do.

There was no time to lose, she had to find Luke.

\-----

In the dark factory chamber, Luke Skywalker cautiously, but resolutely, picked his way along. Steam and smoke curled around him, filling the darkened alcoves.

On a walkway above him, a menacing shape was outlined in the darkness. Undeterred, confidence flowing through him, Luke approached.

A deep baritone rumbled from the shadows, “The force is with you, young Skywalker. But you are not a Jedi yet.”

Luke’s only response was to ignite his lightsaber, blue blade cutting the gloom.

When he was almost level with him, Vader ignited his own blade, the red glow illuminating the ominous shadow that was the armoured giant.

\-----

Leia cautiously stepped into the carbonation room, blaster at the ready.

She’d been forced to enter through a side door, after finding the main one sealed. _Trapping Luke,_ she’d thought. Thankfully, she’d gotten lucky once again and on a whim had opened a door that led her to the Ugnaughts. It hadn’t taken much threatening to get them to lead her to a maintenance hatch.

She’d ended up near the very same spot she’d been standing only minutes earlier. When it had briefly felt like everything was crashing down around her. But now she had a goal and a blaster, she was no longer helpless. And she would save Luke!

Leia looked around, hoping for some sign that Luke had escaped the carbonation process. She approached the edge of the pit, nausea threatening over the memory of Han.

Of what she’d confessed, “I love you.”

And his response, “I know.”

 _…_ _The arrogant nerf-herder._ She thought, tears briefly threatening in pained fondness.

She tore her eyes from the pit, a fierce hissing drawing her attention. Looking up, she noticed one of the thick cables had been cut clean through and was now dangling limply, steam rapidly escaping. She let out a breath of relief; it looked like she wasn’t too late here, Luke was still free.

The room was eerily silent, beyond the hissing steam. She looked around the platform and frowned.

_No sign of either Luke or Vader._

She wished she found it reassuring, but the image of Luke trapped on a gantry kept her searching for signs of them.

Below she heard a ringing crash, as if something had been knocked over. Leia rushed to the edge, blaster drawn. She peered down, and was just in time to see Luke go through a side hatch.

“Luke!” she cried, desperate to reach him. But once again, she was too far away.

Determined to get to him, she quickly searched the area for a way down. The edge of the platform was a sheer drop, with no ladder or stairs that she could see. Not even a hydraulic platform! She paced the edge, anxious to get down there, knowing she was running out of time. Then she spotted it. Off to the side, some cable had been piled up out of the way. Wrapping the blaster strap around her shoulder, she grabbed the end and began to unspool it over the edge. Using the controls for the carbonation process as an anchor she wrapped the cable multiple times around it, hoping it would remain in place.

She barely gave it a test to see if it would hold her weight before launching herself over the edge; urgency driving her actions. The cuffed hands made it difficult but not impossible to descend, her legs taking most of the weight.

She reached the bottom faster than was safe, landing with a hard, teeth rattling thud. Barely pausing long enough to get her bearings, stumbling in her haste, she grabbed the blaster and raced through the dark tunnel she’d seen Luke enter.

The passageway was littered with equipment. Pipes and control boxes scattered along the walls, making navigating quickly and quietly difficult. Frustration ate at her. She had to make it in time! She could feel it, some unnameable sense of _hurry, hurry, hurry._

Then she saw it, the end of the tunnel opening into a large observation room. She slowed her pace to a crawl, cautiously approaching. The hum and crash of lightsabers echoed in the enclosed space.

Her heart leapt into her throat at the sight that greeted her. Luke and Darth Vader, lightsaber’s lit, facing one another. Vader’s back was to her, her view of Luke partially blocked by his black bulk. For a brief moment, neither of them moved, Luke’s panting breaths and the steady wheeze of Vader’s respirator the only sounds.

Vader’s lightsaber twitched.

She watched, wide eyed and shocked, as a piece of the wall came flying at Luke. He batted it away with his lightsaber, dodging another piece that quickly followed. In awe, she watched a pipe fly at him from behind, only for it to deflect off of him as if it had hit an invisible shield.

Her amazement was broken, however, when next a small tool rocketed at him, smacking him hard in the shoulder. Luke cried out in pain and stumbled.

Shaken, she tore her eyes to Vader’s unmoving back. The dark armoured shadow was just standing there, lightsaber pointed at Luke, as machinery and equipment began to fly at him in greater speeds.

Both distracted as they were, neither noticed her quietly taking aim.

She braced herself against the entrance, making herself as small a target as she could, grip tight on the blaster.

Luke, bruised and bleeding, backed up towards a large floor length circular window, Vader mirroring his steps. Partially hidden by the entrance, she waited for her moment.

Briefly, this reminded her of another time Vader’s back had been to her. A shot she could have taken, almost wished she had taken, long ago on Vrogas Vos. He had been in her sights then, she’d almost brought an end to his reign of terror. Only concern for Luke had stayed her hand. She’d abandoned her blinkered obsession with killing Vader in favor of saving Luke. Now… Luke’s life was on the line once again. And this time she’d take the shot.

Luke stumbled, knocked off balance, exhaustion weighing him down.

Sensing Vader’s distraction, she carefully aimed between his shoulders.

Another large chunk dislodged itself from the wall.

She fired.

The blaster shot rang out, Vader stumbled forward with a cry, wild triumph flared through her, and Luke turned terrified eyes onto her.

“Leia!” he cried.

Undeterred, she fired again, determined to take Vader out. Slightly hunched over, a black clad hand shot out, hand harmlessly deflecting the shot. She fired again as he straightened, determined to get at least another shot in. She knew she could hit him!  But again he blocked, back still mostly to her.

“Princess.” he growled, partially turning towards her. She felt her blaster give a sharp jerk, as if attempting to jump out of her hand - as Han’s had. She stopped firing and pinned it against the wall, holding on with all her strength. “You should have stayed with the Wookiee.”

“Leia,” Luke panted, pale in his shock, his bruises even more stark against his skin. “Get out of here! Run!”

“I’m not leaving without you.” She fiercely hissed back, eyes never leaving Vader, blaster still trembling in her grip.

Vader tilted his head, the lenses of his mask angled to meet her eyes. He seemed to regard her for one long moment; some dark cloud hovering over her determination, trying to break it down. Testing her. With a snarl she managed to fire one more bolt, shaking the feeling off. His red lightsaber rose to meet it, and some instinct just barely had her ducking back into the entrance in time to dodge. The bolt harmlessly splattered into the wall, exactly where she’d just been standing.

“Leave her alone!” She heard Luke cry, and peeked out in time to see Vader pivot and barely manage to deflect the blade.

“Yes,” she heard Vader goad, “release your anger.”

Luke didn’t reply, just snarled and went on the offensive.

Vader’s movements were stiff, his cloak charred and armour damaged. His shoulder guard had absorbed most of the blast, but she could see that she injured him.

The blaster steady in her hands once more, she took aim again, waiting for the right moment. She could feel that nameless ‘something’ hovering around her, watching her. Vader was obviously being careful not to turn his back fully to her.

She watched in awe as Luke viciously attacked Vader. She’d never seen him wield his lightsaber with such confidence and skill before. Perhaps he could do it, for a moment she dared to hope, maybe Luke could actually beat Vader. Get revenge for his father, for Alderaan…for Han.

“Good. Your anger has made you strong.” Vader intoned, blocking Luke one-handed, his other angled towards Leia. “But not strong enough.”

Vader shifted to a two-handed grip on his lightsaber and suddenly the fight shifted. Vader’s blows began to drive Luke back, and she could see him straining under each one. Vader herded Luke deeper into the room, the large glass window now haloing the fight.

His attention now mostly on Luke, she knew her chance was coming.

One of his slashes left Luke stumbling back. Vader moved in, intent to finish the fight. Somehow, she knew the exact instant he turned enough of his attention away from her and fired.

Vader twitched to the side but was unable to dodge completely and cried out as it glanced off his shoulder.

Luke took his chance, lightsaber coming down high in a slashing cut.

Vader barely recovered in time, forced onto one knee, lightsaber held in his uninjured arm, and blocked Luke. His respirator was working overtime, breaths coming quicker than she’d ever heard before. Luke strained against the red blade, trying to force it down.

For one moment, Luke looked as if he was about to succeed. But in the next, Vader raised his left hand. And, to her complete and utter shock, Luke was sent sailing across the room. He smacked into the wall with a sickening thud, hand cracking against a metal strut and lightsaber flying out of his hand. He lay unmoving, dazed.

She gasped, about to run to him, when a fierce growl startled her. Vader staggered to his feet, lightsaber sending red sparks of melted durasteel floor scattering.

“You have interfered,” he turned towards her, a weighted darkness paralyzing her in place, “for the last **time**.”

The blaster fell from her limp fingers, cuffed hands grasping futilely at her throat. Invisible hands grabbed her, dragging her into the room.

Her eyes were wide in fear, she’d heard of his legendary ability but had never witnessed it herself; the ability to make you choke on nothing. She couldn’t see Luke anymore; her world narrowed to Vader. Darkness began to encroach on the edges of her vision, tunneling her awareness to the black outline of the helmet, the sinister red glow of his eyes, the sharp corners of the mask, all illuminated in the blood red glow of his lightsaber.

“No!” Luke cried and knocked bodily into Vader. They both stumbled, and Leia fell to her knees, gasping great gulps of air.

She didn’t see what happened next, but heard the sound of a body sliding across the ground. She looked up to see Luke on his knees pressed against the glass, Darth Vader’s lightsaber at his throat.

Leia went white, panic fuelling her as she dove for the blaster. She never reached it. An unseen force slammed into her and sent her hurtling back down the tunnel. Luke’s anguished cry of “Leia!” echoing after her.

She landed and rolled with a grunt, clipping the edge of some equipment with her hip. One final roll, head over heels, and her back slammed into a box, breath driven out of her. She couldn’t breathe and hunched over, desperately trying to force air into her lungs.

She didn’t know how long she sat there gasping; it have been for a minute, it could have been five, when the sound of shattering glass reached her.

She gathered her feet under her and staggered down the tunnel, going as fast as she could, breath returning to her in painful gulps. When she reached the end she found a horrifying tableau. The large circular observation window was shattered and gone, as if a great force had exploded it outward. A fierce wind gripped the room, sucking much of the scattered machinery out the window. Luke was at the edge, Vader a few steps farther away than he had been a moment before.

With a shout of, “Luke!” she watched helplessly as, while struggling to stand, he gave Vader a grimace of a smile and voluntarily let the wind take him over the edge.

Vader was unmoved, the dark figure standing rocklike while the wind howled, outstretched hand falling limply to his side.

Leia staggered into the room, thrown off balance and barely avoided joining Luke by grabbing onto the piping that encircled the area.

The howling ended, the room falling eerily silent. The only sound was Vader’s respirator, the regular beats slowing down to normal levels. Vader stepped forward and peered over the edge. He stood there, for a long moment, while she was in shock.

He couldn’t be dead.

Luke was not dead! She refused to believe it!

Movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. A little grey cylinder jumped into Vader’s hand and he negligently clipped it to his belt. Luke’s lightsaber. His only heirloom from his Father.

Perhaps it was the shock of what she’d just witnessed Luke do, but she found herself frozen in place, unable to move as Vader turned to face her.

“What…” She whispered, unable to comprehend it all.

Vader stiffly rotated his injured shoulder, and she accused, furious, “What did you **do** to him!?” He didn’t answer at first, except to begin walking towards her. “Why did he just…” Voice thick, her anger deflated, she couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence.

When he reached her, his hand shot out and roughly grabbed her upper arm.  That seemed to shock her from her stupor, as she cried, “No!” and lunged towards the window, denial sharp in her mind.

Vader’s iron grip had no give to it, as she knew from past experience, but still she struggled. “Luke!”

He turned her an began walking, practically dragging her back down the tunnel, “He is not dead, Princess.” He stated, surprisingly subdued. “Not yet.”

She was forced to begin to jog to keep up, as his pace continued to increase. “What? What do you mean? After what he just…” She hissed and was forced to cut herself off as her injured hip bumped into a trolley of tools. They were sent scattering with a crash. She almost fell over but Vader’s grip on her arm kept her up, forcing her to do a limping hop to keep pace.

Recovering, she demanded, “Answer me!”

“You know he is not.”

“What are you talking about?” She scathingly replied, “How could I possibly-“

He cut her off, “Just as you knew Captain Solo survived.”

She was surprised into silence at that, unsure how to respond. Yes, a part of her was certain that Luke wasn’t dead. She was fairly certain it wasn’t just denial. But how could it not be wishful thinking? She may not have been as surprised as Chewie by Han’s survival, but that didn’t mean anything!

“I knew no such thing.” She hissed and tried to wrench her arm from his unmovable grip. To no success.

She felt it once again, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up, the feeling of being watched by Vader intensifying even if his mask wasn’t facing her at all. “Search your feelings, Princess. And you will have your answer.”

She shook her head in disgust, unwilling to understand what he meant.

They emerged in the bright white hallways of the city. Once again the stark contrast between the sterile hallways and the dark factory a shock to the senses.

“Prepare my shuttle.” Vader barked to the stormtroopers stationed in the hall.

“My Lord,” One of them approached while another hurried to execute the order, “you’re injured. I can-“

“Later.” Vader growled, his grip on her arm tightening fractionally. She winced in pain, deep bruises forming under his grip. Orders given, Vader turned and marched down the white hallways at even greater speed. Leia was forced to jog even faster to keep her own feet under her, under no illusion that he wouldn’t just drag her along if she couldn’t keep up. Even the stormtroopers were almost left behind by his ground eating strides.

 _“Leia!”_ She heard a voice echo all around her, causing her to stumble.

“Luke,” She whispered, her eyes gaining a faraway look.

_“Hear me, Leia!”_

“He’s…” She cut herself off and glanced uncertainly at Vader. Only now noticing that he’d stopped walking and was looking down at her.

“He’s alive.” Vader confirmed.

His helm tilted as he regarded her for one long uncomfortable moment, the light catching the red of his lenses. She didn’t know what he was looking for but before she could decide how to react. To both the validation of his assurance Luke was alive, and to Luke talking to her, he resumed his long strides.

Leia was forced to reach up with her cuffed hands and grab onto the arm with a white knuckle grip in order to maintain her balance as she jogged along. Even the stormtroopers began to jog slightly to keep up.

Normally, she would have been verbally attacking Vader right now. Instead, her mind was whirling and trying to understand what had just happened. Luke had talked to her, somehow. And Vader had known immediately. What did it mean? An uneasy feeling began to grow at the implications.

Before long, they exited the building onto a windswept walkway; Vader’s shuttle sitting, warmed up, on the far platform. The clouds around Cloud City were lit in a gorgeous purple haze. But it was not the picturesque view that caught her eye, no; it was the speck of the Millennium Falcon, chased by multiple Tie fighters, escaping into the clouds.

She staggered and almost fell as Vader pulled her up the ramp, the Falcon lost from sight. He shifted his grip and righted her, almost negligently. Without pausing for a second, Vader dragged her into the cockpit of the shuttle, hand still vicelike on her arm.

“Out!” He ordered and the pilots practically leaped from their seats to comply.

As soon as they were past, Vader roughly pushed her into the co-pilot chair, seating himself in the pilot’s.

She heard shouts of surprise from behind them as, with a few adjustments to the console, Vader took off with the loading ramp still down. She looked back to see some of his own troops falling off the edge. One of the officers staggered and slammed the controls, closing the ramp.

“What do you think you’re doing?” She turned to Vader, incredulous.

He didn’t answer her at first, just flew the shuttle to the edge of the city.

The temperature in the cockpit suddenly plummeted as Vader gripped the controls so hard she heard a faint crack and growled, “Stubborn boy.”

He turned sharply to her and demanded, “Where is he.”

“What.” Was all she could reply, nonplussed.

“Do not play games with me, Princess. You know where he is.”

“And why should I tell you.” She snarled, suddenly furious, scared at what he was implying.

The ship dove over the edge of the city, beginning to skim the relatively smooth bottom.

“Your death will be long and slow if you do not.” He threatened in a voice deeper and more menacing than she’d ever heard before.

She shivered in a sudden chill but raised her chin, defiant.

“I’ll tell you nothing.” She hissed at him, furiously refusing, spite and hatred staying her hand.

A dark weight pressed down on her once more, a feeling she had begun to associate when Vader was around. It was always hovering around him, the cold dark cloud. She’d first experienced it on the Death Star, but her mind shied away from that memory. It was only after repeated exposure to him here, on Cloud City, that she began to realize what he was doing. As during the fight she’d interfered with in the factory, he was trying to influence her with the Force. She winced as the pressure increased but steeled her heart and mind. Irrationally refusing to give him something he wanted.

Her vision blurred for a moment, Luke’s voice reverberating in her head, _“Leia…please…”_ He was barely holding on, she could feel it.

Almost as if he could tell something had changed or sense her indecision, Vader partially lifted the painful pressure and quietly rumbled, “Is his death truly preferable to you?”

She turned away from him and closed her eyes, debating, unsure if she should give Luke’s location. She’d seen him voluntarily step over the edge. Would he thank her? She didn’t know what Vader had said or done to make Luke shift from violently attacking to stepping into certain death. One thing she knew for sure though, together they had a much better chance of surviving Vader than apart.

She unclenched her hands from her lap and whispered, “Very well.”

Decided, she brought her cuffed hands up and arched an eyebrow at Vader, silently demanding how he expected her to fly.

“Good.” He did not release the controls to unlock the cuffs. To her shock, he simply twitched a finger and the binders unlocked. She frowned down at them and thought _If only I could learn to do that._

Shaking the brief flight of fancy off she brought her hands up to the secondary controls and turned the ship had to port, guiding them towards Luke, inexplicably knowing exactly where he was. As Vader had said she did.

So focused on Luke, she almost didn’t notice Vader observing her. The intent stare just as intense as it had been in the carbonation chamber.

Squinting, she was just able to make Luke out on one of the lower antennas, barely hanging on. Just as they got within range she sent the ship into a sharp dive away from the city. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Vader jerk, Luke finally lose his grip and begin to fall. She smoothly brought them level with Luke.

With a wave of Vader’s hand the loading ramp extended and Luke landed heavily into the waiting arms of the stormtroopers.

Leia breathed a sigh of relief, hands relaxing their white knuckle grip of the controls.

She still didn’t know why Vader was interested in her, but if she did, she’d be horrified at the direction his thoughts were taking: _Their connection is strong…too strong for an untrained force sensitive, as she is. It is almost as if…_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the positive reviews and kudos! I haven’t written anything in 10 years so this was just supposed to be a warm up as I work on a longer Leia fic. But now, I’ve decided to focus a bit more on this and post every other week until Christmas (that’s only 4 more chapters, I’m trying to keep my goals easy and achievable for now ;) ). Next up, ROTJ!


	4. ...Choose The Daughter Over The Son

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Ewoks can’t fight the empire’s best troops, the trap succeeds, the rebels lose. Darth Vader descends for the captured rebels, a quarrel with Leia ensues. There’s no happy ending, not here and not now, this tale is all sorrows and woes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When trying to decide how Vader could end up capturing Leia on Endor, this seemed like the most logical series of events…?
> 
> Scenes and dialogue paraphrased from the 1981 script of Return of the Jedi.

On the forest moon of Endor, small pinpricks of light sparkled and flashed in the clear blue sky. They haloed the unnatural grey moon, hovering in a geostationary orbit. A deflector shield surrounded the half completed station, invisibly projected from the generator hidden on the forest moon.

Leia frowned up at the winking lights, knowing that for every small flash she saw, a cruiser or capitol ship was destroyed. She only hoped that some of them were Stardestroyers and that the Alliance forces were holding their own. They just needed a little more time.

An explosion brought her eyes back down to the battlefield before her. The sound of blaster fire and the battle cries of the Ewoks filled the air.

Han was at her back, attempting to hotwire the blast doors for the deflector shield bunker. So far he’d had no luck, only succeeding in bringing an additional layer of the blast-door down. If only Artoo hadn’t been hit by that lucky shot, they’d have the Death Star’s deflector shield down for the fleet by now.

As she laid covering fire for Han to work in peace, she worried about Luke. He was up there, alone, with Darth Vader and the Emperor. Her mind shied away from the revelation last night. The detonator Luke had dropped on her and then disappeared to face Vader. She didn’t know how she knew Luke was on the Death Star, or she did, but it was a feeling she didn’t want to examine.

However, Luke’s final words to her played in her mind over and over as she worried and tried to focus on the task at hand.

_“Because...there is good in him. I've felt it. He won't turn me over to the Emperor. I can save him. I can turn him back to the light. I have to try.”_

Luke was so certain he could save Vader, someone who’d committed countless atrocities in the name of the Empire. She just couldn’t understand it. If her feeling was right, and he was on the Death Star with the Emperor, than he’d been wrong. And if he was wrong in thinking Vader wouldn’t turn him over, was he also wrong about the good in him? Why was he even trying?

She shuddered and missed a stormtrooper stealthily approach from the cover of nearby brush.

_“If I don't make it back, you're the only hope for the Alliance.”_

As if she didn’t already play a large role in the fate of the Alliance. A General herself, now he expected her to become a Jedi and be responsible for Vader and the Emperor? Alone? Without him? She wanted nothing to do with that power! Not if it meant being anything at all like… **him.** Nausea rose in her at the thought of sharing anything with that-that attack dog! A prominent, painful main feature in years of nightmares.

Who would teach her anyway? There were no Jedi left.

Distracted, the red blaster bolt from the nearby bushes caught her completely by surprise.

“Ah!” She cried and stumbled back into Han, gripping her shoulder in pain. He grunted in surprise and quickly helped settle her in the corner he’d been occupying, her feet no longer able to hold her up due to the sharp pain.

“Oh, Princess Leia, are you alright?” Threepio fussed from his cover next to the fried Artoo.

“Let’s see.” Han demanded, hands hovering hesitantly over her.

“It’s not bad.” She shook her head and grit her teeth against the pain. She wouldn’t be taken down but a glancing blow like this.

“Freeze!” Leia and Han froze in shared surprise. Multiple stormtroopers approach them, including the one who’d shot her, blasters drawn.

“Oh, dear.” Threepio fretted.

“Don’t move!” They ordered, closing in.

Leia carefully readied her blaster with her uninjured arm, using Han’s body to hide it from view of the stormtroopers. Han glanced down at it then up at her in understanding. Their eyes met, his filled with affection and admiration, hers with determination. She’d need to be quick to get the troopers, but she was a very good shot.

“I love you.” Han quietly said, admiration clear in his voice.

Leia smiled up at him, her worries and fears temporarily washed away. They had yet to address what had been said during that last moment on Cloud City. Both still dancing around each other, uncertain of what to say or do.

Feeling fond and happy at him finally admitting his feelings as well, she knowingly replied, “I know.”

“Hands up! Stand up!” The modulated voice of the stormtroopers ordered, breaking the moment.

Han gave her a quick nod and slowly raised his hands in the air.

Leia tightened her grip and readied herself. She’d need to be very fast to shoot them all before they could return fire. In this moment, Han’s life was in her hands.

Han began to stand up but as he did so, a hazy feeling began to build in her mind. She almost frowned at Han, _why was he standing up so exaggeratedly slowly?_ but blinked and realized it wasn’t him. It was her perception that had changed.

A strange pressure joined the hazy feeling and her mind drifted without her consent from the moment. Panic flared at the foreign sensation she couldn’t control. Her eyes gained a faraway look, unable to focus on Han’s slow movement.

Han, not noticing her distraction, began to turn to give her the shot. In her mind, she wanted to yell at him to stop. Something wasn’t right! The pressure continued to build in her head until it was unbearable. A muffled sense of pain that would give her no relief.

As quickly as the pressure had built, it vanished in an instant. And with it an unnameable sense of connection she’d felt ever since a young boy had opened the door to her cell and claimed _‘I’m Luke Skywalker, I’m here to rescue you!’_

The muffled pain gained a sharpness that had her grimacing.

Time resumed its normal flow. Han had turned enough for the stormtroopers to see her blaster and they reacted.

She was numb to it all. Unable to move.

“She’s armed! Stun them!” Was the last thing she heard, along with Han’s furious shout, before darkness fell along with relief from the horrifying pain. The severed connection. And the reality of what it meant.

…

Leia came to with a groan and a deep throbbing in her head. She tried to bring her hands up to massage her temples, but jerked her eyes open when cold metal dug into her wrists.

 _What? What happened? Were we captured?_ She thought hazily.

She was lying on her side in the dirt, hands bound in cuffs behind her back. The shoulder not on the ground throbbed painfully as she glanced around, moving as little as possible. Next to her, Han was on his knees, head bowed and hands cuffed behind his back. Beyond him, Chewie was slumped on the ground, unconscious.

With a shaky gasp, the aftereffects of the stun bolt wore off and she remembered what had happened.

_No._

Han glanced over at the noise and his mulish expression turned concerned, “Leia, are you all-“

“Be quiet!” A trooper behind him snapped and smacked him across the head with his blaster. Han fell forward with a grunt and glared back at his attacker.

A hand landed on her injured shoulder and roughly brought her up onto her knees. She grit her teeth and tried not to let out any noise of pain, but didn’t quite succeed.

“Hey!” Han cried, indignant, coming to her defense as always, no matter how futile the gesture, “You watch it you-“

He was cut off by another crack of the butt of a blaster. She winced and shook her head at him, wishing he’d kept his mouth shut and saved his energy for later.

A stiff looking officer approached and she squinted up at him over her headache, refusing to think about the cause.

“Get them in position, Lord Vader is inbound.” He addressed the surrounding stormtroopers. With a sneer he met her glare, “He will be inspecting them personally.”

She grit her teeth and pushed down the terror that pronouncement brought, not giving him the satisfaction. When his words didn’t have the desired effect the officer huffed in disappointment and glanced around, “Well? That was an order!” He snapped and stalked off.

 _Vader is coming… does that mean…?_ She scrunched her eyes shut and shook her head, trying to banish the thought.

Leia and the rest of the prisoners were roughly brought to their feet and marched to stand at the edge of the clearing around the shield generator’s back entrance. Failure sat heavy in her gut as she saw how few of them had survived. Most of the strike team was being laid out on the ground, dead.

It had been a trap. That much was obvious to her now. An entire Legion had been waiting for them. Not even the help of the brave little Ewoks was able to turn the tide. None of the natives were present in their lineup, but she could see some furry bodies scattered on the other edge of the clearing, stormtroopers working quickly to clear them.

Had the plan been doomed from the start? She looked up into the sky, the dreaded Death Star mocking her by its continued existence.

A pinprick of light caught her eye, the sun catching on an object heading towards them. She couldn’t supress the shiver at the realization of who was on that shuttle. _If he’s coming here, then where is…?_ She violently cut the thought off and looked around to distract herself.

Han was looking at her in concern, but didn’t say anything. A slight wince betraying the throbbing headache he must have after the repeated blows to the head. She tried to give him a reassuring smile but probably only succeeded in a grimace, going off of his wince in reaction. Chewie was now standing next to Han, and he gave a muffled whine when their eyes met.

The rest of the strike team looked as dejected as she felt. The whole attack had relied on them getting the deflector shield down. With their failure she could only hope that the fleet had been able to get away before the Empire could mount a dedicated counter offensive. A slim hope given the trap they'd fallen into here on the ground.

The throbbing in her head increased in potency as the roar of a Lambda-class Shuttle sounded overhead.

Vader had arrived.

Multiple emotions swirled uncomfortably in her gut, the thought she’d been trying so hard to suppress threatening to come to the surface. Fear dominated. Fear for herself and the unwanted connection and accompanying responsibility. Fear for Han and Chewie, their torture at Vader’s hands not even a year past. And fear for the fate of…

_“If I don't make it back, you're the only hope for the Alliance.”_

Dust and debris swirled around them as the shuttle touched down before them; Leia was forced to duck her head to protect her eyes. Before the wind even had a chance to settle, she heard the hiss of the shuttle’s ramp lowering.

In dread, she forced herself to raise her eyes, the pain from the headache and her shoulder throbbing and keeping her hyper aware.

Through the steam of the hydraulics, a black shadow emerged. Her heart began to beat so fast in her chest she worried it would burst. As the steam cleared, the armoured form of Darth Vader became crystal clear, stalking down the ramp.

He looked like his usual self, a black void that seemed to suck the very life from the air around him. There was no sign that that he had been in any of the fighting. The heavy black fabric he wore over his shoulders flared out and her eyes were arrested by a startling sight.

_He’s missing his right hand._

There was a ringing in her ears. Her breath came in quick pants. Sweat left her hands slick where she gripped them, bound behind her back.

 _He’s missing his right hand!_ Her brain was stuck on the thought, refusing to move past it.

In the distance, she heard a growl to her right.

_He’s missing his right hand. Just like…_

Anguish built up painfully in her chest, closing her throat. If Vader was injured, there was only one person who could have done it. One person who was not here. Who she could no longer feel. The sensation of being wrapped in a warm blanket, a feeling that had followed her through last night all the way up to… all the way up to the moment she’d felt it ripped away. Replaced with immense pain. Then silence. Emptiness.

_Just like Luke._

A scream built up inside of her. Vader reached the end of the ramp. The ringing stopped and with it, her self-control.

She knew now, without a shadow of a doubt, something had happened to Luke. And it was Vader’s fault.

The rage at the supposed man before her, the man Luke had called Father, burst from her in a scream of agony and fury.

“You!”

She leapt forward, quicker than her guard, and charged at the black monstrosity. Behind her, shouts of surprise sounded.

“Vader!” She growled, hatred making her voice rough.

Vader paused in his advance, but made no move otherwise. So intent on him, not even knowing what she’d do when she reached him, besides wanting to attack, she didn’t hear the booted feet behind her until she was half tackled from behind. Together, both Leia and the stormtrooper stumbled and fell to their knees. She immediately tried to leap to her feet but the trooper managed to grab her injured shoulder, causing her to contort and gasp in pain.

It was almost a relief from the stabbing headache.

The sound of boots on gravel, and the fearfully apologetic words of the trooper to Vader, made her open eyes she hadn’t realized she’d shut. Black boots, armoured up the knee, stopped a pace away from them. She raised her eyes but was caught once more by the missing right hand.

“Luke,” she whispered to herself, grief almost overcoming her anger.

Vader motioned with his remaining hand, ordering them to their feet. The stormtrooper began to lift her back up but she refused to be manhandled. She struggled to stand on her own, hampered by the cuffed hands and the surprised fumbling of the trooper.

She glared at Vader through the pain and raised her chin, every inch the royalty she had been raised to be, ignoring the stormtrooper as if he was a minor annoyance.

“What did you do to Luke!?” She demanded, almost shouting in Vader’s face. Gasps sounded behind her, along with a nervous growl from Chewie.

Vader made no move to answer. In fact he didn’t move at all, merely tilted his head as if he was studying her.

The stormtrooper yanked at her, causing her to stumble back a step, obviously trying to get her back into line and away from Vader. Having none of it she ripped herself free, despite the stab of pain that shot through her shoulder. She took a step forward, having to raise her head to meet the black, vaguely red tinted lenses and growled, “Vader, answer me!”

Vader once again didn’t answer at first, to her rising ire, but he did give a flick of his left hand, sending a gust of wind past her ear. She twitched to the side, enough to see the stormtrooper flat on his back behind her. A very brief frown crossed her face but she refused to be distracted and turned her glare back onto Vader, intent to get answers from him.

Luke couldn’t be dead. He just couldn’t be.

“The Emperor killed him.” Vader rumbled, cutting through her denial.

Her anger left her in a swoop that made her take a wobbly step back, head shaking in denial. Not like this, not after she just found out about their connection, not her brother. The only family that had been left, regardless of whether she’d known it or not.

“But you already knew that, didn’t you, Princess?” He asked contemplatively and took a step forward to maintain the distance. “You knew the moment the Emperor destroyed him.”

Leia stared at Vader with wide eyes for a moment, beginning to realize what he might be implying, afraid of what conclusion he might come to. Her skin crawled in disgust at the shadow of the truth, unwilling to think or acknowledge it. She tried to cover her shock and fear by going on the attack.

“He never should have left - gone to you in the first place.” She snarled up at him, scowling once more, “You **gave him** to the Emperor. It’s **your fault** he’s—“ She couldn’t bring herself to say it. She could barely think it, her headache throbbing painfully as if in response to the thought.

“You are correct, he should not have.” He replied, surprisingly subdued.

He raised his left hand and Leia flinched and tried to take a step back. But she couldn’t move. She blinked in shock. Something held her in place, her muscles refusing to respond. Ice shot up her spine as she realized he must be doing something with the Force.

She glared at Vader in hatred now, pain and anger mixing together. She tried to angle her head out of the way of his reaching hand and hissed, “Don’t touch me!”

He roughly grabbed her by the chin, thumb against her cheek, to the outraged squawk of Han. He turned her head from side to side, looking for something. Icy fear once more cut through the heat of her anger. She tried to wrench away from him to no avail, panic blooming where anger and grief had ruled.

Her headache flared to migraine levels of pain. An unbidden whine of pain escaped her and her knees gave out. Or they would have, if she wasn’t held up in an immobile grip. Her world tunneled down to the excruciating pain, vision going black at the edges, and the black armoured form of Vader. Then, suddenly, as if a cold compress had been placed on a throbbing wound, the migraine retreated back into a dull throb. Less painful than it had been since she recovered from the stun.

She blinked hastily to bring everything back into focus as he finished his examination wordlessly. A stomach turning thought temporarily cleared her head of the angry fog, _does he know…? Is that…why he is acting so strange?_ She asked herself, finally realizing that he’d been behaving… differently than she’d expect.

Leia was still frozen in place and so couldn’t duck away when his hand released her chin and moved to grab the scruff of her jacket. She shivered in disgust and gave an outraged, “Let go!”

Vader turned and began to maneuver her towards the shuttle, her ability to move restored. The grip caused her jacket to rub painfully against the blaster wound and she was forced to grimace in pain and follow him, almost slumping against him to get away from the pain as he walked with her at his side.

Quietly, as if he only wanted her to hear, he said “Your destiny lies with me, now.”

“Never,” She growled while he raised his voice to address the Imperials around them.

“Commander, collect Captain Solo and the Wookiee and secure them in the shuttle.” Leia looked up at Vader in trepidation as they reached the base of the shuttle ramp. Tilting his head down to look at her he finished his order with, “Execute the rest.”

She shivered, cold once again. She tried not to let any of her true feelings show. Knowing the message Vader was sending her. The only reason Han and Chewie were alive, was because of her.

Leia blinked her eyes at the sudden darkness of the shuttle, the lighting surprisingly dim after the bright late morning light on the moon. They came to a stop in front of a seat that she recognized as right next to the medical berth. It was a designated first-aid seat with bacta patches and other wrappings for minor wounds.

Vader released her and stepped back, obviously expecting her to sit down. She straightened her back, intent on refusing until the others were there, acutely aware that they were alone in the shuttle.

Her eyes caught on Vader’s missing right hand and she bitterly said, “He should have just killed you.”

Blaster shots rang out from the clearing; Han and Chewie’s shouts and cries of dismay reaching them in the shuttle.

Vader raised his right arm and seemed to examine his missing hand for a moment. He let it drop then agreed, “Yes, he should have.” His voice was tight from some held back emotion but she could not fathom what it could be, completely confused and off balance at his response.

His next words shattered her.

“Your brother…” Her legs gave out and she slumped down into the seat behind her, “was wrong.” Vader was looming over her now, the bright light of the forest cut out in the dim lighting of the ship, his bulk blocking out the remaining light. Her breath was coming in quick pants, panic overtaking her in the darkness of his shadow. “You **will** turn to the dark side.”


	5. ...Hesitate A Moment More

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leia has a dream, Luke is tortured and in pain. The plan is changed, they still succeed. Luke tries to save Vader, to Leia’s great dread. He’s good now? She does not believe. There’s no happy ending, not here and not now, this tale is all sorrows and woes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some of the things I have Leia do, without giving anything away, I’ll just say she learns fast?

The Lambda-class shuttle broke through the upper atmosphere of the forest moon of Endor with little fanfare. As the clouds parted and the atmosphere thinned, the shape of the new Death Star came into sharp focus. From the half-moon shape of the completed section, tendrils curled away like the mechanical arms of a grasping creature.

Flashes of light flared and on the periphery, the only evidence of a life snuffed out. Not far from the battle station, a furious battle was engaged between the fleet of Stardestroyers and the Alliance. Blaster and cannon fire lit the space between them. Some ships showed no lights at all, floating dead in space.

Leia grimaced at the reduced number of ships that she could see, the price of their failure to get the shield down in time. At least the fleet was holding on, if barely, and the Alliance hadn’t given up on Han’s team when they first arrived and realized the shield was still up.

It had been a nagging fear, ever since their initial assault had backfired.

Thankfully, she hadn’t relied solely on Han’s plan of assaulting the bunker at first light. The little Ewoks had been very helpful in guiding her back to the shuttle they’d arrived in, the Tydirium, at Threepio’s prompting. In communication with Artoo, she was informed when Han’s plan failed.

She’d understood then, why she’d been so hesitant to go with them. Han had been so sure they could still get the drop on the Empire at the hidden back entrance, but she’d had a feeling it wouldn’t be enough.

A feeling she’d forced herself to trust, over her almost physical revulsion of what it meant.

Luke’s revelation of Vader’s ability to feel him, his connection to Vader and…to her had rolled around in her head on repeat all night. She could accept Luke as her brother easily enough; it was everything else that went with it her mind had tried to shy away from.

It was only through controlled breathing and a form of meditation she’d been taught to use when the stress became too much that allowed her to sleep.

But what little sleep she did get was plagued by a horrible dream. A dream where Luke was writhing on a hard durasteel deck, electric currents sparking up and down his body. In the periphery, she’d had the sense of two dark shapes: one hunched and hooded, the source of Luke’s pain, and the other a black form massive and armoured, observing passively.

In the dream, Luke was reaching out, a last agonized wheeze of, “…please!” reached her ears before she started awake.

She didn’t go back to sleep after that. What followed was a long and restless night, alternatively replaying what Luke had said to her before he’d left, and what they would face in the morning. She did her best not to look too deeply into her dream. She couldn’t let herself get caught up in her fear for Luke.

It was in the early morning, before the sky began to change, that she’d come to a decision. If Vader knew Luke was on the moon, where were the Imperial search parties? The scouts had reported some activity but not nearly as much as she’d expected given the Emperor was on the Death Star. Luke had hoped to distract Vader from hunting them down but…a horrible thought had penetrated her restless sleep…what if the Empire knew they were coming?

Surely Vader knew that Luke wouldn’t be here alone, no matter what Luke told him. Surely he suspected they were planning to take down the shield generator and that it had been Luke’s mission. The nagging feeling of a trap had disturbed her sleep as much as Luke’s, her brother’s, revelation.

_…and my Sister._

And that horrible dream. 

Once, years ago, she’d been certain that Vader and the Empire had let her go, let her think she had escaped only to find she had led them straight to the Alliance. She hadn’t been believed then… just as she didn’t think Han would believe her here.

And even if it was a trap, the Alliance Fleet would be arriving in the morning; there was still a chance they could succeed. With the Emperor on the Death Star, it was still too good an opportunity to pass up.

 _And they know it, too._ Had been the thought that finally spurred her into action.

It was a rational and sensible decision. Not one made because of a feeling, or because of a dream.

The shuttle was just supposed to be backup, she’d told Han, and she left the rest of the team with him, despite his protests. They couldn’t afford to let any of the strike team join her if there was going to be any chance of success.

When she’d crested the hill in the shuttle and seen the pure pandemonium of an Imperial Legion fighting off unseen attackers she’d felt vindicated and panicked at what it might mean. About herself and the feeling/premonitions she’d always brushed off as luck and instinct.

She’d had to force herself to focus on the battle ahead and in that moment, assessing the battlefield, she saw her chance. A quick call to Han had him abandoning the bunker and running for cover while she came in and strafed the base. The dish projecting the shield to the Death Star was virtually unprotected, the AT-STs busy crashing through the canopy searching for attackers in the forest. They didn’t notice her in time to concentrate their fire. Cannon blasts from the base were easily dodged, she may not be as good a flyer as someone like Luke, but this she could do. At the last minute she’d pulled up, concentrating the forward guns on the dish, and with a gasp of triumph the dish exploded, shrapnel barely missing the shuttle.

The shouts of joy from the team on the ground had lifted her spirits. Given her a sense that maybe, just maybe, they could pull this off. The Emperor would finally be brought down.

It was in this moment of triumph that she felt it: an immense wave of panic and pain. It was so strong that she cried out, not understanding where the pain was coming from, arcing up and down her body.

The ship continued in an uncontrolled climb, and came dangerously close to red-lining.

The pain had quickly faded into a dull ache and she’d regained control of the ship, noticing with a start that she was almost at the lower edge of the clouds.

She hadn’t known what had happened, but Han’s demands over the headset for answers made her come to a quick, horrified realization.

It had been Luke’s name she’d cried.

Luke was in grave danger on the Death Star. He may not be calling to her directly like he had on Bespin, but she wasn’t about to let him die alone up there, not if she could do something about it. She wouldn’t let her dream come true.

It was with a brief apology to Han that she cut the transmission and blasted off into space.

And now here she was, the Death Star looming ever larger in the view port.

The station was massive, how was she going to find Luke?

Doubt almost made her turn back, but she forced herself forward. Steeling herself, she tried to remember what it had felt like back then when Luke had called to her, told her where to find him. It was months ago, when she’s rescued him from Bespin, but that feeling had stayed with her.

She hadn’t thought much of it at the time. But now… she pushed the thought from her mind and closed her eyes.

The memory of the pain she’d recently felt made it difficult to reach out to him, and for a long moment she steadily approached the station with no sense of where to go.

She shook herself free of the fear of pain by reminding herself why she was doing this. Luke needed her. She had to help him!

Leia closed her eyes and breathed in and out. Tried to calm her mind and focus on Luke. She pictured his golden mop of hair, the mostly healed scar across his face, the sky-blue eyes. But most of all she pictured his kind smile, his worry for her, the sorrow and compassion on his face when he told her she was his-

_Father! Please!_

She screamed in pain, every nerve on fire.

Her eyes snapped open and she frantically looked around her. She was still here, in the shuttle, she reassured herself. Not being electrocuted. She frowned then, the echoes of pain not her own quickly leaving her. Had she really just seen lightning coming from the Emperor’s hands?

…Had it not just been a dream?

She shook the crazy thought off and brought her hands back to the controls. Whatever that painful flash had been, it had been worth it. She now had an idea of where to go.

 _I’m coming, Luke_. She thought, wishing he could hear her.

As she neared, she could make out tiny fighters zig-zagging along the shell of the menacing station. Flashes of red blaster fire chased them across the surface. The freighters in the distance continued to exchange fire with the surrounding Stardestroyers.

Leia observed it all in tense silence, on the alert for any attempt to attack her ship, the flight taking an agonizingly long time. Above the Death Star, the massive bulk of the Super Star Destroyer, The Executor, floated like some giant sentinel. Even its massive size made to look small next to the partially completed battle station.

Finally, the Death Star’s bulk blocked out the rest of the battle raging around it. With the deflector shield down she knew she didn’t have long. To many, what she was doing would be considered suicide. Going into a station that could blow at any minute? But she knew, somehow, that if she was quick, she’d have just enough time.

She could now make out features on the station and before her, and more importantly, a group of hangar bays. Surprisingly, she hadn’t been hailed or fired upon once by the station or other Imperial fighters, perhaps the codes the Tydirium was broadcasting still reading friendly.

As she got closer she was able to see the tiny forms of Imperials scuttling across the hangar decks.

The soldiers were evacuating, which explained the lack of defense.

She slowed her approach, the multiple open bays causing her to hesitate. Uncertain where to land she tried to repeat her actions of moments earlier and closed her eyes once more, reaching out for Luke. The extreme pain she’d been subjected to twice made it difficult, a large part of her shying away from the Force in a kind of Pavlovian response.

Praying, but also knowing, he’d survived whatever had been happening to him she was finally able to capture that same feeling of him.

Foreign surprise almost overwhelmed her and she snapped her eyes back open. A sense of _please hurry_ assaulted her and she quickly manoeuvered the shuttle into a mostly empty hangar.

Reverse thrusters engaged, her hands flew over the controls, bringing the shuttle to a swifter than advised landing. The support struts were barely lowered before the ship came to a harsh stop.

It was the kind of landing Han would be proud of.

Leia ripped the headset off and flew from her seat. She grabbed a blaster on the way and smacked her palm onto the wall console, lowering the ramp. Her heart beat quickly in her chest, the ramp moving agonizingly slowly. Luke hadn’t sent any words, but she’d felt an echo of his pain when she’d surprised him. He was struggling with something, moving at a dangerously slow pace towards her. He wouldn’t make it on his own in time.

The ramp was only half down before she jumped off the side, hand on the hydraulic strut to slow her decent. She landed in a crouch and took off running to the area she’d felt Luke.

Around her Imperials were running to their own shuttles, unconcerned with the Rebel in forest green fatigues in their midst.

A shuttle was between her and where she knew he was. She rushed around it, prepared for the worst, only to come to a stumbling stop at the sight that greeted her.

Luke was staggering towards the shuttle, barely keeping himself up. Draped over him, large form dwarfing his was the limping black bulk of Darth Vader.

Nausea rose up at the sight of him, the memory of Luke’s confession the night before paralyzing her.

_The Force is strong in my family…_

Luke stumbled and fell, and for a moment she thought Vader would land on him and crush him. But a black arm shot out, and he barely managed catch himself and roll away from Luke. She took a hesitant step towards them, but the thought of facing Vader, knowing the truth, was almost impossible.

_I have it, my father has it, and…_

Luke’s lips were moving, compassion plain on his face.

She wanted to run away. Far away. Her breaths were now coming in short gasps, her desperate plea to Luke last night now her reality.

_My sister has it._

Vader said something to Luke and the whole station shook, explosions going off in the distance.

The blast shook her out of the paralysis and she cursed herself for wasting so much time. The station was going to be destroyed any minute. She could have a panic attack later!

Whatever conversation they were having was cut short at her shout of, “Luke!”

His head shot up, eyes meeting hers; relief and pain evident in them. Vader’s head also jerked towards her, but stopped and a hiss of pain was issued from his mask.

“Luke,” she repeated as she came up to them, “Come on, let’s go, the station will explode any minute.” She gestured at Luke, ignoring the dark form at her feet.

Determination flooded his face and dread rose in her, knowing what he was about to say, “I’m not leaving him.”

She shook her head in denial, unable to understand (not wanting to understand) where this was coming from, “Luke, there’s no time. We need to leave, now!”

Vader remained unmoving on the ground between them, helm now tilted towards her, his respirator sputtering and wheezing. On his chest, multiple lights were blinking rapidly in alarm.

“Leia, you don’t understand, I can’t leave him.” Luke gently placed a shaking hand on Vader’s chest.

Frustration welled up in her.

Vader, to her shock, agreed with her, “Go, L-Luke.” Vader struggled to say, his voice stuttering even with the vocoder, “Leave me.” She spared him a glance but her eyes jerked back to Luke when she realized his helm was still tilted so he could see her.

“No,” Luke refused, compassion in his voice, pain lining his face. Denial in every part of him, “I have to save you.” Vader’s helm finally left her and slanted back towards Luke.

He was delirious from the pain, from whatever had happened to him, she decided. And they were wasting time here arguing. Impotent anger welled up at the wheezing form at her feet.

With a growl, she tossed her blaster to the ground, the sound jolting Luke and his- …and Vader.

“Fine,” She bit out and forced herself closer to Vader, every part of her body screaming out in hatred and disgust. She bent down and positioned herself to grab his left shoulder. Luke, gratefulness shining in his eyes, shifted around so he mirrored her on the right.

“On three,” She ordered, skin crawling, and hooked her arms under Vader’s armoured shoulder. “One… Two…,” and with a great heave, they managed to get up into a crouch. Straining under the immense mass, they began to drag the Dark Lord. Luke started to angle them towards the nearest shuttle but she shook her head at him.

“This way,” She grunted. “You need…” she heaved Vader’s dead weight and almost lost her balance, “the med kit,” and led them around the shuttle to the Tydirium.

Luke didn’t immediately disagree, which was worrying in its own right.

The alarm blared, soldiers ran, and together they dragged Darth Vader to the base of her shuttle’s ramp. Once again, no one stopped them. Explosions sounded in the distance, signaling the bombardment from the Alliance forces. They were running out of time.

Leia’s arms and back were beginning to scream in pain at the effort of lifting Vader’s enormous bulk. They made it partway up the ramp when she felt her shaking arms begin to give out. They weren’t going to make it. The slope of the ramp was too much, and Vader was too heavy. Had Luke’s insistence to ‘save’ Vader killed them?

She looked at Luke and opened her mouth to ask him for more help but he met her eyes and anticipated the question.

“I can’t use it.” He said with a grimace, his own arms shaking as well. Sweat dripped down his pale face, he was obviously continuing only through sheer force of will.

But if Luke couldn’t use the Force, how were they going to make it to the top? Their progress slowed even further. Her frustration began rise along with her own anger at the situation.

Vader was an unmoving dead weight, not helping in the--

Vader’s left hand shot up and gripped her bicep. She jerked and almost dropped him in surprise. Anger, hatred, disgust warred within her at the unwanted touch.

She opened her mouth to snap something scathing at him when, suddenly, his weight became lighter. Vader bent his knees and planted his feet. They both realized what he was doing in time to stumble back as he pushed up and back. They all fell into the shuttle in a heap, Luke’s face scrunched in pain, Leia panting in exhaustion.

She sat there for just a moment, grateful Vader hadn’t landed on her. She went to get up but froze when she realized Vader’s hand was still gripping her arm. A mess of emotions briefly paralyzed her but she managed to push them down and attempt to rip her arm free, knowing it would be useless unless he let go. Thankfully, on the second wrench he did and she staggered to her feet. She wanted to help Luke, who was struggling to sit up but knew they didn’t have time.

“I’ll get us out of here.” She told him and hit the close button for the ramp. She made to go to the cockpit when Luke’s pained whisper floated up to her.

“Leia,” he was up on his knees now, hand resting protectively on Vader’s shoulder, “thank you.”

She gave him a tight nod, not trusting her voice, and continued to the cockpit, putting on the headset and strapping herself in. Already warm, the ship started up again with no trouble, while explosions began to sound throughout the hangar.

Hands tight on the controls, she brought them up and yelled, “Hold on!” accelerating out of range as the station began to come apart around them. She sped up as fast as she dared, conscious of Luke not strapped in behind her.

In their wake, the Death Star exploded in a riot of light. The whole shuttle vibrated violently in the shockwave of the blast, rattling her teeth.

The shaking slowly stopped, and Leia peered into the darkness, blinking spots out of her eyes.

She breathed a gusty sigh of relief and relaxed her hands on the controls. Knowing they weren’t safe yet, she took stock of what was going on around them. In her haste to get them out of the blast radius, she’d taken them away from the battling star ships as well as the moon. They were alone, no other ships in the immediate area showing on the scopes.

She ripped the headset off and sat back with another sigh, adrenaline still pumping through her veins. That had been too close for comfort.

She ran a hand down her face and hesitated to leave the cockpit. Back in the hold, Luke was there with…Vader. Hopefully making use of the first aid and applying it to himself. Whatever had transpired between them and the Emperor, it had obviously taken a heavy toll on both Luke and Vader. It was surreal to see the subject of her nightmares so weak. So helpless. A part of her was screaming _Now’s your chance!_ But…

She still couldn’t believe it, didn’t want to believe it. Her connection to that… that man was unreal.

A thump and a pained wheeze floated up from the hold. Knowing Luke, he was trying to help Vader and not himself. She didn’t understand where his compassion was coming from, but she needed to go back there, as much as she didn’t want to. She’d noticed the small tremors Luke had tried to hide from her.

Pushing down her nausea once more, for Luke’s sake, she left the ship floating, setting the systems to stand by, and unbuckled herself. She quietly made her way to the back and paused when she got to the entryway, shock momentarily halting her steps.

Luke was sitting on the edge of a berth, exhaustion bowing his shoulders. In the berth itself, Darth Vader was stretched out, his helmet removed. An oxygen mask had been placed over his exposed face. From her angle, Leia could just make out the bald, horrifically scarred head, the skin pale and waxy.

Luke’s eyes were fixed on Vader’s face, compassion in his eyes. But she felt no sympathy, whatever had caused the injuries, she was sure he deserved it.

Luke and Vader were having a hushed conversation, Vader’s voice thin and reedy.

“Luke,” Vader was painfully whispering, “you need med-“ he paused and was forced to take a harsh breath, “medical attention.”

“I feel fine.” Luke shook his head in denial, appearing to be entranced with looking at Vader, his eyes darting over the exposed flesh.  She wrinkled her nose at the hungry look in his eyes.

“You’ll feel the effects-“ he jerked as if in great pain.

“Father,” Luke called, and disgust shot through her at the title. “Please, lie still.”

Vader shook his head in a short aborted motion, “Bacta. You need-“ He was forced to stop again, the external respirator forcing oxygen into his lungs.

If even Vader was imploring Luke to seek medical attention, he must be worse off than she thought. She didn’t see any cuts or wounds on him. He’d somehow gotten through the confrontation without any serious looking injuries but… if that dream she’d had of Luke being electrocuted was correct, he could be suffering from internal damage.

She stepped forward into the room, intentionally allowing her boots to sound against the deck. “Luke,” She called. He flinched and looked up at her as if he hadn’t even heard her approach. She frowned at him. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Vader’s eyes flick to her, not seeming to be surprised at all, unlike Luke.

She hesitated to take another step, not wanting to even be this close to Vader, but it was only for a second, and Luke seemed not to notice. She walked towards them and put an arm on his shoulder and tried to get him up.

“Come on, you need to lie down.”

He complied in that he stood up, but shook his head. “I feel fine.” And made to go towards the cockpit, “I’ll fly us to-“ he cut himself off and stumbled, only her quick reaction stopping him from falling over.

“You sure about that?” She asked, voice intentionally light.

“Well…maybe you’re right.” He gave her a tired, sheepish grin. She just rolled her eyes fondly at him and steered him to a nearby bunk, across from Vader, but not too close.

Luke practically collapsed onto the bunk when they got there, a pained moan escaping him. She frowned and sat at the edge, strapping him down in case she had to do some quick flying. She didn’t want to injure him further.

He turned onto his back and let out a tired sigh. She almost thought he’d pass out right then and there, he was such a sorry sight. But not as bad as the last time she’d had to rescue him in a situation like this. He’d been in shock, sweating and clammy. This time he just looked worn and exhausted. She forced her mind away from the commonality of both situations and began to card her hands through Luke’s hair, hoping to help him relax.

With her other hand, she reached down and pulled out a tray of emergency medical supplies.

“I did it, Leia” He whispered, eyes half lidded.

She glanced back up at him, momentarily distracted, “Is the Emperor…?” She began to ask but Luke shook his head.

“Dead,” Leia let out a breath of relief. The Emperor hadn’t escaped. It had been a concern, when they’d planned the mission.

“He…saved me.” Luke motioned to Vader. Leia turned her head just enough to look at Vader out of the corner of her eye and met his startlingly blue ones, his face expressionless. She jerked her head back, unwilling to meet his piercing gaze. Something about the intent way he was looking at her putting her off and making her skin crawl.

“You said he wouldn’t take you to the Emperor.” She quietly reminded him.

“I know but…” Luke sighed. “He turned back,” a look of wonder came over his exhausted face, “for me.”

She frowned down at him, unable to hide her deep skepticism.

“Luke…”

“I know Leia, I know but…he’s Anakin again.”

She looked down at his hopeful expression and knew what he was asking of her… but… she just couldn’t give it to him. Not yet, maybe not ever. All she could do was ensure Vader survived… for Luke and Luke alone. She would have nothing to do with him.

She gave Luke a brief little, noncommittal nod. It appeared to be enough for him, for he slumped deeper into the bunk, some of his tension draining away.

“What happened in there?” She asked, hoping to get an idea of what to tell the medics when she got them to some.

Vader’s whisper startled her, “Lightning.” She whipped her head around and stared, forcing herself not to look away again. She finally let herself register what he really looked like.

A deep scar cut into the top of his forehead. Another one almost collapsed his left cheek bone. Blistering welts surrounded the injuries. His skin was so pale it was almost translucent, a sure consequence of lack of sun exposure. It made his eyes, sunken and surrounded by heavy dark bruising, stand out with their startling sky-blue colour, the same bright shade as Luke’s.

When she was a young Senator, she’d often wondered what he looked like under the mask. It was a favorite topic of the gossiping socialites, to speculate on what sort of creature he was under all that armour. She’d taken part, easily drawn into the speculation. But after the destruction of Alderaan, after being chased across the Galaxy by him for years, she’d barely considered it. He’d become a being of her nightmares, a black death that brought nothing but destruction.

However, despite the repeated assertions by fellow Rebels that he was a force of nature, something untouchable, she’d always **known** he was just a man; powerful, but not invincible.

Reminded of the kind of power he could wield, his laboured breathing reassured her that, regardless of Luke’s claim that he had ‘turned’, Vader was too weak to do anything.

“What do you mean, ‘lightning’?” She forced herself to ask.

Vader took a deep breath and whispered out, “Electrical burns…internal damage…”

She turned back to Luke in alarm. He looked fine on the outside, but if it was all internal…

Leia’s questing hand found a scanner on the tray, hoping to see how bad the damage was and if there was anything she could do.

Vader’s voice continued after a few laboured breaths, “He needs… specialized care.”

“I know that.” She snapped, eyes on the scanner. It beeped and began to run through a long list of scans. “And where were you when this was happening?” She couldn’t keep the suspicion from her voice, but thankfully Luke seemed too out of it to notice.

“You think… I was spared?” Vader wheezed.

She glanced up and met his blue eyes once again. And again, that unsettling feeling of being intensely examined made her want to look away. She didn’t, resolutely not giving into the feeling and let her glare speak for her. She was sure it was just a trick of the light, but she almost thought she saw the corner of his mouth twitch up.

The scanner chimed in completion and she quickly scanned the results on the display. A lead weight grew in her stomach the more she read. Vader was right, he would need special care. A dip in a bacta tank would not be enough for this kind of internal damage. The only recommended treatment she could give him was a muscle relaxant and general booster.

“Does the Rebellion…” Vader began in his reedy voice, and a spike of anger shot through her. Couldn’t he just lay there and be silent? “…have the… necessary equipment?”

“That depends what ships survived the battle.” She bit out angrily.

“Leia,” Luke whispered from the bunk. Her tight, angry body language softened and she grabbed his questing hand in her own.

She ran her free hand through his hair one more time, “I’m going to get us in contact with the medical frigate. You just rest.” He was barely able to nod, head lolling in exhaustion. Before she’d even finished standing from his bunk, he had passed out.

She reached back down into the tray and picked up a case with all the stored hypos inside. In quick efficient motions, she loaded the shots and administered them to Luke. She put them back in the compartment but glanced over her shoulder at the continued feeling of eyes on her back.

Anger and hatred swelled up in her again. He just wouldn’t stop looking at her!

She slammed the medical compartment shut with more force than necessary and stormed back to the cockpit, refusing to meet his eyes. Anakin Skywalker’s eyes, if Luke was to be believed. She was having a hard time accepting it.

She sat and strapped herself in, grabbing the headset from where she’d thrown it and securing it back on.

She brought the ship out of standby and engaged the scanners, trying to get an idea of the position of the fleet. She sighed in relief at what she saw. The Alliance fleet was clustered around the moon, the debris from the Death Star between their shuttle and the fleet. Deeper into space the Imperial fleet was beginning to cluster as well, having broken off the assault on the Alliance once the station was destroyed.

Leia frowned as she noticed a potential obstacle to her plan to rush straight to the Alliance. In the debris field, a large arrow shaped shadow blocked the way. She wasn’t sure what the Executor was doing, that far from the rest of the Imperial fleet…could it be searching for survivors?

She shook her head and plotted a course that gave it a wide berth. Hopefully she could make them think she was angling to join the Imperial fleet, and then veer off once clear of the debris and speed towards the Alliance.

Course set, she also began to broadcast the same codes they’d been using earlier. They’d let them through once, there was no reason for anything to have changed.

…

If only she hadn’t done it.

For aboard the Executor, an Admiral noticed a shuttle approach, counter to the order he’d given the Imperial fleet.

On further examination, he realized that it was the same shuttle that had gained Lord Vader’s attention many hours earlier. And now it was attempting to fly past them, just out of range of their tractor beam.

A suspicion formed in the calculating mind. A suspicion that may have led to nothing, after all Lord Vader had allowed it to pass before, if it was not for the slight mental nudge that galvanized him to give the order to bring the Tydirium in.

…

The tractor beam had locked onto them.

Leia shut down the engine and ripped the headset off in frustrated disgust. She’d been so sure it would work! She’d tried to stay out of range, and thought they were going to let her pass. They almost did let them pass! It was just as she was beginning to gear up the engine for an explosion of speed that the monstrous ship had edged towards her, barely catching her in the tractor beam.

A scowl formed on her face as a suspicion began to form. She stood up and stomped back to the hold where Luke and Vader were resting.

“You!” She accused, anger and hatred once more overtaking her. “What did you do!?”

Vader (Anakin Skywalker, or so Luke claimed) cracked a blue eye open to regard her fuzzily. “What happened?” He questioned in his reedy, hard to hear voice.

She balled her fists up in thwarted anger. As much as she wanted to take it out on him, he appeared to have nothing to do with it. He was frowning at her with both eyes open now, and they gained a sharpness that once again made her uncomfortable.

“Nothing,” She grunted and ran back to the cockpit in a panic, planning to futilely attempt to break free of the tractor beam. She had to do something. Anything! They couldn’t be captured. Not now, not on the day of the Alliance’s greatest victory.

So caught up in the attempt, she didn’t notice that as soon as she turned her back, the blue eyes that Luke had been so raptly admiring, that had smiled lovingly at him, began to change.

Starting from the iris, yellow bled outward, the sulphurous colour overriding the innocent sky-blue. When the last of the blue at the edge of the corona was consumed, a red ring bled through to surround the sulphur yellow.

Through half lidded eyes, Darth Vader smirked in satisfaction at his daughter’s back, basking in her hatred.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the other idea that came out of trying to decide how Leia would get captured on Endor. 
> 
> And after reading Comrade and Confident by L.S.Napier, I wanted to write what Vader does in this after liking the different interpretation on the end of the movie. I highly recommend the story. There are some NSFW parts so if “that’s just not your bag, baby” then skip it and read the rest for the characters ;)


	6. Catch a Ride Over Skarif

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You may think that the Tantive IV ought to escape, the death star plans in Leia’s hands.
> 
> Darth Vader left standing on the gang plank, the droids crashing on Tatooine.
> 
> But there’s no happy endings, not here and not now, this tale is all sorrows and woes.

Note: I’m alive! Well, this chapter is one year later than I wanted to post it but… life *sigh*. I’m going through the stuff I’d written before and trying to get them into posting shape. Got a few more chapters that were mostly written so hopefully I can clean those up too. :)

Names taken from Wookiepedia, but they may not be in their ‘official’ roles. Also, I’m playing fast and loose with the layout of the Tantive IV. Not really a ‘he catches a daughter’ so much as ‘he catches a princess’. Also considered calling this: To Catch a Daughter One Must Not Waste Time Looking Cool Killing Soldiers in Hallways.

…

The security footage went black.

The bridge, previously abuzz with the quick but competent work of trained professionals, was now deathly silent. Console lights blinked, messages, demands for instructions, went unattended. Hands were frozen over stations, the collective breaths of all on the bridge held in horror. Officers stared blankly ahead: some down at their frozen hands, others at the large viewport and the white streaks of hyperspace.

From the still functioning speakers, frantic screams echoed in the open space. Sharp bursts of blaster fire undercut with a steady, undulating hum.

Captain Antilles stood beside her, face as pale as she was sure her own was. In her hands she held the hope of the Alliance, gripped so tightly the edges were digging painfully into her palms.

With a burst of static and a last gargled, cut off scream, the line went dead.

 _How,_ she thought in blank shock, _How is that possible? All those soldiers…_

With a sudden energy that made her flinch, Captain Antilles sprang into action. “Shut the emergency blast doors to that area!” He pointed and ordered one of the command crew.

As if that had been the signal to break the spell, the entire bridge collectively gasped, letting out the tense breath they’d been holding. Horrified looks were exchanged amongst the crew while the majority focused their gaze on the Captain. Awaiting orders.

_How did he possibly…_

“S-sir,” was the choked, half-frozen response from the singled out woman to their left.

“What was that, officer?” He demanded.

She stiffly straightened her back, fingers flying over the controls, “Sir, yes sir!”

“Officer Rumm, I want all armed troops sent to the aft bay.” He ordered the head of security.

“Yes sir.” The man turned in his seat and put his mic back on, barking orders.

“We need to keep him as contained as possible. Lieutenant Batten, how long until we can drop out of hyperspace?”

“It will take some time, we need to let the engines fully reach lightspeed before dropping out,” the man instantly replied, “otherwise we risk a critical engine failure. We’d be sitting dead in the void.” All around them, rest of the bridge began to regain their composure.

“I need a hard number Cap-“

“Sir! He’s broken through and is heading up the port corridor!”

“Already?” the Captain spun, “Shut the blast doors to the corridor,” he ordered, tension and fear bleeding into his voice, “shut them all down.”

“But sir! We have people in-“

“Now!” he barked.

The woman flinched, but quickly carried out the orders, face pinched.

“Lieutenant Batten?” He turned his attention back to the navigational officer.

“Twenty minutes sir, by the droid’s estimation.”

Captain Antilles cursed quietly to himself. She only heard it because she was standing so near, over the alarms and clamour of the bridge crew giving orders.

“We’ll be lucky if we can slow him for that long.” The Captain turned towards her, and she was shocked to see the pure defeat in his eyes. It was hidden well, but she’d worked with the Captain for the last couple years, on missions both routine and perilous, and never had she seen him so rattled, so beaten. “Princess, there’s no question he’s heading towards the bridge, we need to get you to safety.”

She shook her head, confused at his lack of faith in his crew, “He’s just one man. I know he has strange abilities but the blast doors for the bridge are half a meter thick, there’s no way-”

“You haven’t seen what he’s capable of, Your Highness.” He interrupted, shocking her at his rude breach of protocol. “All the stories you’ve heard? True. If he’s heading to the bridge, he’ll be here. It’s not a matter of if, but when.” He took a deep breath, obviously trying to fortify himself. “We need to get you, and your hope,” He nodded down at the precious data disk in her hand, “Off of this ship.”

She tensed, a part of her wanting to deny what he was saying. They were so close, so very, very close. A single intruder couldn’t possibly… but the Captain was so certain. He’d faithfully served her House since the time of the Old Republic, lived through the Clone Wars. If he said the bridge would be breached, with such conviction, then it must be true, as unreal as it seemed.

 She nodded in acceptance, bowing to his greater experience. “What do you suggest, Captain?”

He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face in agitation, “We have no shuttles on board, only the emergency escape pods. If we can control where we come out of hyperspace, it will give you a chance to make it to an inhabited planet.”

Leia nodded, thinking his plan over, “And if you aren’t able to?”

The Captain grimaced, “If he stops us, I’ll…” he subtly gulped, “delay him as much as I can, to let the droids finish their calculations.”

He mouth pinched together, dismayed at his sacrifice, that he wasn’t coming with her. Of all the people on this ship, she trusted him the most. To lose him like this… She shook herself mentally, there had already been so many lives sacrificed, they could not let it all be in vain.

She wanted to do something for him, offer some comfort or sign of gratitude but…  

“I’ll need a guard for the planet and an astromech to control our decent.” She requested, calculating how many beings they could fit in a pod.

He nodded, grateful. “Petty Officer Metonae, to me.”

“Sir!” A woman stood from her console and approached, dressed in officer browns, similar to Captain Antilles.

“Petty Officer, I’m assigning you to escort Her Highness off the ship.” The woman’s eyes widened in surprise, but she gave no other sign of her feelings on leaving the rest of the crew behind. “See to it she reaches the escape pods.”

The woman gave a crisp salute to the Captain and then bowed to Leia, “Ma’am.”

“I’ll take it from here, Captain.” She nodded at the woman in acknowledgement. “See to your crew.”

He gave her a relieved look and then a parting salute. “May the force be with you, Your Highness.”

“And with you.”

Leia turned to Petty Officer Metonae and said, “Once I acquisition an astromech, I’ll debrief you on the plan.”

The woman nodded, looking torn between relief at potentially surviving this day and guilt that she was getting this chance while the rest of her crew did not.

Leia pushed it from her mind and walked to the droid station, followed by her guard. She allowed herself a small smile as she approached. She knew just the astromech.

“I need you to plot out the best route to the escape pods,” she commanded the officer. “The R2 unit will ensure we make it to the nearest-”

An angry cry of “No!” interrupted her. They both glanced up in time to see one of the communications officers rip their headset off in panic.

“Report.” Captain Antilles barked from his position next to the navigation console.

The officer turned towards the Captain, face ashen, “He’s,” the man swallowed a gulp of terror. She watched, dread rising as he forced himself to continue, “He’s made it to the forward bow. He’s-“

“Already!?” The Captain shouted, finally losing his composure in front of the crew. Their eyes met across the bridge and she convulsively clutched the disk. She was trapped on the Bridge. This couldn’t be the end, there had to be some other way.

“Your Highness.” The urgent voice of the Petty Officer startled her and she turned to see fierce determination in the woman’s eyes. She’d discarded her helmet and her officer’s jacket. Clad now in just the brown pants and blue shirt common to all command staff.

“I have an idea, but we need to hurry,” She pulled Leia over to the corner of the bridge, not far from the station they’d been standing at. “It will be tight, but we should both be small enough to fit.” She gestured to a small hatch, the perfect size for an astromech droid.

The hatch was specifically designed to allow the astromechs and other small droids to quickly travel through the ship with nothing to hinder them. Officer Metonae was right, it would be a very tight fit.

Leia nodded, “One moment,” and rushed back over to the droid console, hurriedly typing in the last commands and grabbing a communication stick.

She returned to see the officer entering her own commands above the hatch. “I’m opening all the exits, once we get far enough, we can get back into the corridors and run the rest of the way. I’ll go first and make sure-”

A hissing sound drew their attention, the sound of metal oxidizing and melting. A red glow suffused the edge of the blast door, near the control console. They both watched in frozen horror as more and more metal soughed off, pooling on the ground.

“On second thought,” Metonae choked out, “you better go first.”

Leia nodded, wide eyed, shaking herself back into motion. “Artoo,” She spoke hurriedly into the communication stick, “change of plan, meet us at the escape pods. Have it ready to leave as soon as we get there.”

A beep of acknowledgement replied, as well as a befuddled voice in the background asking, “What? Who are you talking to-?” before she cut the connection.

Kneeling, she clipped both the stick and the disk onto her silver belt and crawled into the confining space.

The tunnel was dark, the only light spilling from behind her and the open hatch. Droids had no need of lighting to make their way, after all. Further ahead, she could make out an open hatch; the pinprick of light only slightly enlightening the path before her.

As soon as she was far enough in the tunnel, Metonae was right behind her. With a shout of, “We’re in!” The hatch was closed, plunging them into darkness.

Leia shivered at her last glimpse of the bridge before it closed.

A black hand, in sharp contrast to the white of the ship’s walls, had held the blast doors partially open. The melted hole an angry red crescent. Through the opening, the bridge crew was firing the few blasters they had on hand, only to be met with a glowing red blur of motion.

She couldn’t see Metonae’s face, but the sharp panicked breaths coming from her spoke for itself.

 “Officer.” She tried to get the woman’s attention while beginning the slow crawl down the shaft.

Muffled screams filled the air between them.

“Petty Officer Metonae!” She sharply commanded, hoping she would respond.

The woman let out a shaky breath and began to move. “I’m coming.”

They crawled down the dark space in silence. The only light source in the access tunnel was the open hatch in the distance.

Leia was not one to feel claustrophobic, but they were moving at a painfully slow pace. There was no room to turn around, it had been difficult for Leia to turn her head and see past Metonae’s body for the last terrifying glimpse of the bridge. The muffled blaster fire and screams didn’t help.

Leia cringed, wishing the sound would stop. But once it did…

Then there was nothing but the sound of their harsh breaths and the scrape of cloth against metal.

The silence was worse.

Heart pounding, the quite whisper behind almost made her jump.

“How did he do it? What kind of monster...” a choked off sob sounded from behind.

“Keep your mind on the task at hand, Petty Officer,” Leia ordered after a moment, unable to think of anything comforting to say over her own shock, her own disbelief that one person could do that much damage, thankful her voice came out calm and level, “We’re not out of the woods yet.”

Leia heard the woman take a few deep breaths, at first stuttering but then smoothing out. “You’re right.” She replied, voice steady once more. “My apologies, Your Highness.”

They continued in silence for a minute, ears hyper alert for any new sound from the bridge. When none was forthcoming, and with the next hatch getting closer and closer, Leia decided she needed to say something to break the oppressive weight that was pressing down on them. Something to focus on other than those they had left behind.

“Once we get to the escape pod, the ship should be out of hyperspace. As soon as that happens, Artoo will eject us and steer the pod towards the nearest planet in the system. Once we land, it will be your job to secure our position and find safe passage to the nearest port, while I attempt to contact any Alliance members in system. We will need to get off planet before the Empire can set up a blockade.”

The open hatch ahead began to suffuse the area in a lighter tone, letting Leia more detail of the tunnel they were painfully crawling through.

She risked a glance back to gauge the Petty Officer’s mental state, “Focus on that, on what you need to do, and we –“

She cut herself off as light filled the shaft from the bridge. Before she could react, she saw the Officer fall onto her stomach as if her legs had just been grabbed from behind. She let out a cut off grunt and began to slide backwards, away from Leia.

Leia couldn’t turn around, couldn’t reach out to grab her, couldn’t stop whatever it was that had the Officer by the legs. She could see nothing holding them, only that her ankles were immobile and tight together, while the rest of her squirmed and thrashed, desperate to slow herself down.

Her scrabbling at the walls and floor finally succeeded as she found purchase on an airlock, there in the event of a seal break on the ship.

Her terrified eyes met Leia’s for one heart stopping moment.

“Run!” Metonae managed to gasp before her fingers lost their grip, dragged violently by an unseen force back to the bridge. Arms outstretched and mouth wide in a scream.

Face ashen, Leia wasted no time and frantically shimmied down the constricting shaft. As soon as she got close to the exit port, she threw herself out. There was a sharp tug on the end of her dress, as if it had caught on something. She kicked out with her foot instinctively, panic clogging her throat, trying to dislodge it. She managed to pull herself out of the exit, the hem of her dress ripping. Whatever it was that had grabbed Officer Metonae, she had a feeling it had just missed her.

She stayed there for a brief moment, shaking with adrenaline and breaths coming in quick pants.

She’d known Vader had command over the Force, but the rest of the Senate was always so dismissive of his abilities, she’d apparently partially internalized their beliefs. Even with the stories her father had told her about the Jedi, nothing could have prepared her for the horror of that moment. The terror that was beginning to pulse through her veins.

The sight of Officer Metonae, being dragged by an invisible force, would not leave her.

With one deep breath, she got control of herself and sprang to her feet, racing away from the bridge. Praying to the Force that she would make it in time. As she ran she was forced to dodge the bodies littered along the corridor. Some were moaning in pain, but she didn’t spare them more than a glance, for they were the unlucky ones. Most were cut in half, their bodies horribly contorted, or squashed against the walls.

“Senator Organa.” Leia’s feet faltered in her sprint as a deep, menacing voice broadcast through every speaker on the ship. “Surrender yourself, traitor, there is nowhere for you to hide.”

She couldn’t suppress her slight shiver at the sheer disgust and hatred he put into the word ‘traitor’. She was proud of what she was doing, proud of what the Alliance was trying to accomplish, and there was no reason for her to feel upset at his use of that term. However… it was final now. The whole Senate would know of her actions, there was no way to talk herself out of this one. Colleagues, acquaintances… friends, would they all call her traitor with the same disgust?

“It is only a matter of time until I find you Senator.” He continued after a moment, a dark promise. “Make this easier on yourself and surrender.”

Leia skidded to around the corner, careening into the wall in her haste. Down the dark corridor, she spotted two droids, locked into an argument.

“Why do you want me to get in? We are still in hyperspace, if you hadn’t noticed.” The golden one spoke as she quickly staggered towards them, grabbing a blaster where it lay discarded, steadfastly ignoring the dead body next to it. “It’s madness, we can’t abandon- Oh! Princess Leia! Please excuse Artoo, I don’t know what- “

“Get in the pod, Threepio.” She ordered and shoved him inside.

“Well I never!” He caught himself against the back wall. Before Artoo could join him she had him pause. Kneeling down, she unclipped the plans to the Empire’s new battle station and inserted it into the droid’s secure storage.

Leia looked down at Artoo and said, urgency rushing her voice, “How much longer do we have?”

The little blue astromech droid let out a series of beeps, ending in a mournful woo.

“Artoo says we will be exiting hyperspace in just 2 minutes, Your Highness, as long as the order isn’t stopped.” Threepio translated then pointed to admonish the little droid, “Exiting hyperspace? Why didn’t you just say so!”

Artoo let out a rude splat that needed no translation.

“Ok,” she let out a breath, there was a chance they could make it. Although she had no idea what system awaited them. Leia stepped away from the pod to quickly look up and down the corridor, but it was eerily silent. No more threats coming over the speaker.

“Artoo, I need you to record a message.” Without hesitation, the faithful little droid let out a soft chime for her to begin. “My name is Leia Organa, if you are seeing this I have been separated from my droid and don’t know what’s become of me.” She steeled herself and continued, “If you are watching this message, please return the droid to Alderaan and my father, Viceroy Bail Organa. If needed, a reward can be arranged.” A noise startled her and she glanced down the corridor, but it remained empty. “Please,” she continued, voice going tight, “I’m begging you, make sure this droid gets to Alderaan.”

She bent down to stop Atroo recording and he complied with a forlorn whistle.

“Don’t worry,” she reassured him, “I’m sure it won’t come to- ah!” She screamed, something grabbing her and tossing her against the wall opposite the escape pod.

She managed to catch herself and not fall to her knees, bracing herself against the wall. The terrified beat of her heart pounding in her ears was not enough to drown out the sudden harsh exhale of a respirator.

She hid her desperate motion to get Artoo into the pod by turning and firing at the dark shape stalking down the corridor. Before she was even able to fire the first shot there was a snap-hiss, and a red glow suffused the dim passage. Her shots contemptuously blocked in quick succession.

Throughout all this, he barely slowed his stride. She couldn’t contain the snarl that ripped from her throat, refusing to stop firing no matter how hopeless it was. She’d never seen a lightsaber in person before, but she was beginning to understand the helplessness on Captain Antilles face when he’d realized who’d boarded them.

The ship shuddered, indicating they were about to revert back to real space. A tiny sliver of hope, that for a moment had almost withered, flared within.

Around her the reflected blaster bolts left a scattered pattern on the floor and walls, until one unerringly hit her blaster.

“Ah!” She screamed, dropping it and cradling her singed hands to her chest.

“Do not think you can escape **me** , Senator.” The deep voice reverberated down the narrow corridor, the red glow of his lightsaber disengaged, the light seeming to get sucked into the dark expanse of his armour.

With a final shudder, the ship finished dropping out of hyperspace. Desperate, she lunged to the side and hit the release mechanism just before he reached her. A large black hand grabbed her shoulder, digging in and pulling her away from the controls, but it was too late.

The escape pod shot out into the darkness of space, the hope of the Alliance contained within.

“Then its good escaping was not my plan.” She shot back at him.

“You are only delaying the inevitable, Princess.” Vader all but growled, giving her a slight shake.

A loud whine pierced the air before she could snarl out her retort. What followed was the kind of silence that left a slight ringing in her ears, the usual white noise of the ship no longer there. It was the sound of the sub-light engine cutting out.

“I only needed to delay you long enough.” She smirked triumphantly at him, sending out a thanks to Captain Antilles and the crew for their last act of courage. “When the Alliance retrieves those plans-“

“You assume they will find it first. In that you are mistaken.” He stabbed a finger towards her face in emphasis. “Regardless, you and I have time before the Devastator arrives, and we have much to discuss.” He turned back towards the bridge, the hand digging painfully into her shoulder letting her go with a slight shove, making her stumble forward in front of him.

Head held high, burned hands protectively cradled against her chest, Leia’s white form marched ahead of the dark behemoth, back unbowed.

 


	7. ...Let Kenobi Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You may think that Leia ought to prevail, and escape back to the rebellion.  
> Darth Vader allowing them all to go, Kenobi dead as distraction.  
> But there’s no happy endings, not here and not now, this tale is all sorrows and woes.

 

Note: Had more time than I thought I'd have so far over Chistmas break so here's another chapter and happy new year!

This was born from wondering what Obi-wan would have done if he’d known Leia was Anakin’s daughter. I think I read once that it was decided she’d be the hidden twin sister during the writing of RotJ? I had a few ideas while thinking about it anyway, and this was one of them.

 

…

The conference room was empty, all the generals, admirals and Moffs off attending to their duties. It was just him and Grand Moff Tarkin in the circular, utilitarian room. Tarkin was standing with one hand on the centerpiece of the room, the round holo-table, fingers tapping agitatedly. For a man usually so cold and composed, it was an uncharacteristic indication of how perturbed he was.

Darth Vader stood still, hands planted on the top of a backrest of one of the chairs, facing him. It was all that was keeping him from pacing. But he forced himself to remain still and show none of his own agitation. For to do so would weaken Tarkin’s faith in his decision, and if he wanted to keep the girl alive, he needed Tarkin’s support. Much as it galled him.

“You allowed Obi-wan Kenobi to escape.” Tarkin repeated in his distinctive severe tone, not quite able to hide the censure from his voice, “You claimed that was not his plan.”

…

Vader brought his blade down in a sweep that had sent many Jedi stumbling back through the sheer physical force behind it. Kenobi, looking far older than he should, given his age, calmly blocked and deflected. The old Jedi took one step back and planted himself in a ready position, defenses high, warily waiting for Vader’s follow up.

The ruby red of his blade clashed once again with the pale blue of Kenobi’s, and once again the Jedi took a step back as he deflected and planted his feet. On and on it went, Vader tirelessly attacking and Kenobi tirelessly defending. It was an old dance, one that would have brought up painful memories, had it taken place even a decade earlier. Instead, Vader felt nothing but disgust for the old man before him.

He was weak. The years had not been kind to him and it showed in his slow reaction times, in his oh so careful defense. His old master’s forays into offensive attacks were themselves offensive, probing jabs that were easily swept aside. Where had the old man been hiding, all these years? Had he truly allowed his skills to erode to such an extent?

The old man had obviously languished in his exile. His smooth movements belied the neglect in his abilities. In order to remain hidden all this time, he could not have made much use of the Force. It was a bolstering thought, that his old master had been driven to such levels of isolation and obscurity. It was not the revenge he had envisioned. Not the daily crippling agony he wished to inflict. But it was a worthy one.

Vader continued to mercilessly hammer at Kenobi, putting up the façade of actively trying to kill him, all the while trying to decipher why. Why had he allowed himself to be discovered? Why had he let slip through his shields that he intended to face him? And why was he slowly but surely, in the guise of giving ground, backing up towards the hanger with the cargo ship?

Years of experience building shields strong enough to keep his current Master out were serving him well. Kenobi appeared to believe he had control of the fight, perhaps assuming –incorrectly- that Vader was a less accomplished duelist due to the suit.

Vader sneered, did the old man take him for a fool? Obviously he believed Vader would ignore the budding force sensitive among the intruders in favor of a final confrontation with him. Perhaps it was the discovery of a new apprentice that had finally brought him out of hiding. If locating the Rebel base had not been such a high priority for Tarkin, none of the Cargo ship’s crew would be leaving this station alive.

But the princess would lead them directly to the base, even if she suspected a trap, of this he was sure.

An underhand slash sent Kenobi back a few steps, finally showing signs of the strain he’d been trying to hide.

Vader glanced beyond him to the open hangar to see a squadron of stormtroopers approaching. Kenobi seemed to sense his momentary distraction and lunged forward with surprising speed he’d not yet shown. Vader’s own quick deflection had Kenobi blinking and falling back into a defensive stance.

A thoughtful look crossed his face, obviously thinking the same as him.

“You’ve been holding back old man.” Vader mocked, not that it would save him in the end. Vader would savor this final confrontation for years to come regardless of the fact that it failed to live up to his expectations.

“As have you, Darth.” Kenobi frowned.

A sudden commotion broke the stand-off, causing Kenobi to jerk and glance over his shoulder in alarm. Vader surprised himself and did not take advantage. Merely observed his old master, in that moment, display more emotion than he had for their whole confrontation.

Vader flicked his eyes up to see the Princess and a boy, both clad in white, engaging in heated blaster fire with the stormtroopers. From the cargo ship, someone attempted to lay down covering fire to little success. The two were stuck, crouching behind a crate of equipment near the hangar entrance.

Frustration gnawed at him, briefly. The princess needed to escape. Were Tarkin’s troops truly so incompetent?

His eyes were drawn back to Kenobi when his old master let out a brief sigh. A familiar resigned smirk crossed the weathered face before he threw himself out amongst the stormtroopers, closing the blast doors behind him with a flick of the Force.

Vader’s brief surprise at the action allowed the doors to begin to close. He reached out with the Force to halt their progress, but was interrupted by a surprisingly powerful Force push that sent him sliding on his heels down the hall.

Vader scowled as his slide was halted in a crouch.

Holding back indeed.

…

“Kenobi’s priorities changed when the stormtroopers almost prevented the Princess from escaping.” Vader said, “He was especially concerned with her and his apprentice.” Something that still struck him as odd, at first Kenobi’s only concern had obviously been for the boy. But something changed between then and when he finally stepped through the blast doors.

“Apprentice?” Tarkin arched one sharp eyebrow.

“A boy.” Vader dismissed. “He is no threat. Once this station is fully operational, he will be hunted down like all that came before.” And perhaps Vader would take him alive. It would satisfy him in a way that little did these days, to turn the apprentice of Obi-wan Kenobi to the Dark Side.

“Kenobi has done well to avoid detection until now, are you certain you can find him?” Tarkin’s fingers continued to tap the holo-table as he frowned at Vader.

“Have faith, Governor Tarkin,” he couldn’t quite contain the mocking words, for Tarkin believed in nothing beyond the power fear could grant, “there will be no more hiding for him.”

…

A presence suddenly shone brightly in the Force. It was shielded, but now that he knew Kenobi was concerned for it, he could discern the pulsing light through Kenobi’s attempted obfuscation. It was untrained, young, and full of emotion. A child his old Master had recently picked up? Was it the boy in white?

Vader stalked towards the closed blast door, cape snapping at his heels, lightsaber bright in his hand. He gathered the Force to him, brought forward his hatred at the old man and all the ways he’d wronged him, savoured it, controlled it, and brought his free hand up in a sharp motion, fist clenched.

With more effort than expected, he fought against Kenobi’s attempt to keep him out, slowly opening his fist. The eye of the blast door began to open in tandem with his fist, giving him a glimpse of what was transpiring on the other side.

The old Jedi had already cut down most of the stormtroopers, with more pouring in to replace them. Had the fools not received the orders to stay back? Vader narrowed his eyes in anger. Whoever had interfered would pay for their incompetence.

Kenobi was now protecting the two hunched white figures, defending them from the repeated blaster fire as they made their way to the ship.

He was tempted to let them go, to let Kenobi think he had been able to slow him down enough to escape. He could swallow his revenge knowing the Death Star would soon finish the job, once the Rebel base was revealed. A temptation he never would have thought possible before this moment. And had their fight been more engaging, perhaps he never would’ve considered it. As it stood, after finally confronting his old master after all these years, he found the whole experience…disappointing.

But something surprised him - the source of the bright force presence. Not a young child, as he had assumed, but a gangly teenager almost to adulthood. Had the Jedi truly grown so desperate to train someone so old? Or had he been drawn to the boy’s burgeoning power and saw the potential for his own revenge?

They were all sprinting for the ship now. The boy in front and the princess in the rear laying deadly accurate cover fire through Kenobi’s defense.

Perhaps…if Kenobi would not fight him, he could take his apprentice. To turn or to kill, it did not matter. The Princess could be trusted to put the Death Star plans and escape over the lives of Kenobi and his apprentice. He could not let this opportunity for revenge pass him by. Why swallow his desire for revenge when an opportunity such as this presented itself.

He doubled the pressure he was exerting, and with a screech of metal, he broke through Kenobi’s block and opened the blast door.

Kenobi stumbled.

A stray bolt hit the princess in the leg. She went down with a disbelieving cry of pain.

The boy didn’t notice at first, continuing to the ship. But Kenobi did, glanced back at her, and chose the boy.

Vader stepped through the now open blast door and let it close behind him with a lowering of his fist. Frustration ate at him over this immediate consequence to his decision. Now he would have to play this very carefully to ensure the princess escaped. As long as this encounter ended with either his old master or the boy left behind, he would be satisfied.

The boy quickly noticed her absence, and skidded to a stop at the base of the ship’s ramp. He turned and lunged back to her with a cry of “Leia!”

Kenobi’s eyes widened in alarm and shot towards her, full of a peculiar fear.

Vader instinctively assessed his old Master’s reaction: the shock, panic, and sudden concern for the princess that had been completely lacking before. He made a snap decision, and took a running leap over the cavernous shuttle lift between them, landing near the sprawled out form of the princess.

The blaster fire of the surrounding stormtroopers cut out.

Kenobi made an aborted motion towards the princess but instead grabbed the boy and wrenched him back with a strength that belied his age. “No Luke!” and shoved the boy up the ramp.

The blaster she’d been desperately firing at the stormtroopers swung wildly towards him. She fired one-handed, the other pressed tight to her bleeding thigh.

He easily deflected the shots harmlessly beyond her.

“No!” The young boy let out an anguished cry, emotion saturating the air around him, and fired wildly at him, clearly ignoring his Master’s order to stay back.

Casually deflecting both attacking children’s blaster bolts he observed his old Master’s indecision through narrowed eyes.

Kenobi clearly had little to no control of the boy, and if he engaged Vader, the young one would surely attempt to interfere, putting himself at risk.

In one quick motion Vader ripped the blaster from the Princess’s hand with the Force, sending it sliding across the hangar deck.

Experimentally, testing a vague theory, Vader quickly stepped partially between the princess and the old man, and narrowed his eyes at the out of character reaction. His old master had been the epitome of the placid Jedi… until the boy screamed her name. Now he’d gone practically ashen, and looked ready to lunge forward and attack with an aggression he’d been lacking their whole fight.

And all over the Princess? Surely he’d known who she was. Was he not here to rescue her?

She was on the ground to his left, hand pressed against her injured thigh. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her trying to get to her feet. But from the grunts of pain, she was having little success.

When Kenobi twitched as if he was about to attack, Vader decided to test him once again. The princess was attempting to half crawl, half limp around him to the ship, obviously hoping to get away while they fought. Kenobi looked grim now and was obviously hoping for the same.

A flick of his wrist and his lightsaber switched hands, angled down, centimeters from the Princess’s terrified face, halting her movements.

His old master leaned back at the action, torn with indecision.

The ship behind Kenobi began to lift off, the boarding ramp still down. His apprentice let out a cry of alarm and raced up the ramp, yelling at the pilot to wait.

In a move that seemed to pain him greatly, Kenobi whispered to the Princess, “I’m sorry.” Then turned and leapt up into the departing ship.

Vader smirked in satisfaction. The princess was important to him. He would find out why.

He deactivated his lightsaber and took in her pale and terrified face. Her hurt and disbelief radiated out from her, as well as a strong feeling of betrayal.

This was not what he’d planned, but he would have his answers from her.

“Stun her.”

…

“Without her to lead us to the rebellion, tracking that smuggler’s ship is useless.” Tarkin snapped. “And instead, you allowed a dangerous religious fanatic to escape.” His incredulity at Vader’s decision was typical of those who could not comprehend the true nature of the Force.

“He will allow us to track him to the base.” Vader stated, absolute certainty in his voice. “But if not… in time the Princess will reveal the location.”

“You failed to get the information-“ Tarkin’s fingers clenched into a fist.

“She was surprisingly resistant to the drugs.” Vader allowed, “But there are other, **longer** , methods to make her talk.”

Tarkin grimaced at the veiled reminder. It was his impatience and his insistence on retrieving the information as fast as possible from her, which led to the useless lead to Dantooine. Tarkin did not want to explain to the Emperor that a core world of Alderaan’s importance had been destroyed to no grander purpose. And Vader had been forced to use techniques that, while supremely effective against the majority of the galaxy, were not as effective against those with a moderate amount of Force sensitivity.

“You had better be right about this Vader. We are taking an awful risk.” Tarkin said, trepidation creeping into his voice.

“He will spring the trap.” Vader assured him.

…

Leia woke with a groan. Everything hurt. Most especially, shooting pain went up and down her neck when she tried to move. Her mouth was dry with that uncomfortable fuzzy taste that came from being stunned.

_I was stunned again? Where am I? Did I make it?_

Fragile hope rose up, her last memory of General Kenobi rushing towards her. She opened her eyes, squinting into the dim light, hoping to see the interior of the junk heap of a ship. Instead, she saw nothing but black.

“Princess.” A deep resonant voice greeter her.

She gasped, violently flinched away, and pressed herself back until she hit the wall of the berth. Fight or flight instincts, that normally ended in her fighting, had her desperate to get away. She went from calm and groggy to panicking and frighteningly alert at the single word. Said by **that** voice.

To her shame, she couldn’t supress the reaction.

She winced and tried to bring a hand up to the shooting pain in her neck, but stopped when both hands moved, cuffed together. From her position lying on the berth, her eyes frantically took in her surroundings. In front of her, knees almost touching the edge of the berth, the dark form of Darth Vader loomed threateningly over her.

Memories of pain and terror flashed before her eyes. Her breath started to come in short little gasps. The cell itself was dark, making the few lights on Vader’s chest glow. The sound of his respirator overwhelmed her senses, the one constant, steady feature that now terrified her.

Her eyes darted around the cell, desperate for anything else to focus on, but they kept being drawn back to the looming threat before her, fear making it difficult to focus on anything else.

Vader reached towards her and, still shaking and off balance, she brought her cuffed hands up to fend him off.

He didn’t touch her.

To her shock, the cuffs unlocked on their own and floated up into his waiting hand. She’d heard stories of the kind of magic he could do, even seen a few holos, but nothing prepared her for the reality of it. The emotional and psychological attacks not long ago were made all the more real. Knowing he had been intentionally leading her to those painful places, that it hadn’t been just the drugs.

When he made no other move towards her, she pushed herself up, hand massaging her neck, managing to fold her knees and sit on her heels. He was so close, she refused to sit properly on the bench and put any part of her body closer to him if she could help it.

With a start she realized there was no pain from her thigh. A hand flew to press on where she knew she’d been shot, only to feel the soft pad of a bacta patch.

“What game are you playing at, Vader.” She demanded, trying to calm her rapidly beating heart. He was so close, she would have to crane her neck to meet his eyes. As much as she wanted to, to at least show some form of defiance, it was too painful. Instead, she settled for resting her eyes on the control panel in his chest.

“No game, Princess.” He said, slowly and contemplatively. “Kenobi seemed to think you are important.”

She furrowed her brows, confused by his line of inquiry. Mind coming up blank. Without her consent, hurt bubbled up at the sudden memory of General Kenobi looking her dead in the eye and then turning and abandoning her, the hero of all of her Father’s stories. When the boy had said General Kenobi was on the Death Star, the smoldering ember that had remained of her hope had flared into a roaring inferno. Only to be doused once more at his choice of escape over her.

Tactically, it made sense. The droid Artoo and the plans he carried were far more important than her life. But the part of her that had grown up on stories of the dashing Jedi Knight had withered and cried out in despair.

“I don’t know what you mean. I don’t know anything about General Kenobi.”

“General? The days of the Jedi leading the armies of the Old Republic are long gone…” Vader observed her silently for a moment, while internally she cursed her slip of the tongue. “You were retrieving him, weren’t you.”

“I told you, our mission was-“ She repeated the old refrain with grit teeth, clenching her fists in the fabric of her dress to stop them from shaking.

“To recruit him.” Vader confidently stated, to her alarm.

She shook her head in denial, eyes drawn inexplicably to the black gloved hands peaking over his crossed arms. A pressure was building in her mind, one that sent her heart racing and palms sweating. She had to hold it together. She had to. They would get nothing from her.

Vader flexed his hand and she flinched, a minute motion she hoped he didn’t catch.

“He was on Tatooine.” Vader stated continued with his calm statements, “And his apprentice as well.”

“I’ll tell you nothing.” She hissed, the shaking of her hands getting worse the longer he stood over her, the regular beat of his respirator growing louder and louder in her ears

Out of nowhere, her anger overwhelmed her for a moment and she spat, “They have the plans, and soon this station will be gone and you along with it!” She was panting by the end, pent up energy lashing out.

“You believe you will be executed for that is the penalty for traitors. Do not think you will escape that easily. I am not finished with you yet Princess. In time, you will tell me all I want to know.”

She couldn’t stop the tremor that went through her at his words, the casual threat of them, the deep certainty in his words.

“You failed before, and you’ll fail again. I won’t betray the Rebellion.” She spat again, voice only slightly shaking in her growing fear.

“Before, I did not know you were Force-sensitive.” He intoned, bending down slightly to loom more threateningly over her.

 _What?_ She blankly thought, mind not comprehending what he was saying.

She blinked and darted her eyes around the cell, noticing for the first time that they were alone, unlike when he had been interrogating her before. To have any connection to the force was an immediate death sentence, for him to reveal it with no one around… did not bode well for her.

“What?” She whispered and shook herself. “You’ve lost your touch, I’m not-“

“Your father hid you well.”

 The pressure built in her head. “I’m not- I can’t be.”

“Your resistance to the mind probe proves otherwise, Princess.” He confidently stated, and a part of her almost believed him. No matter how insane it sounded. Surely if it were true, she would’ve been informed by the royal doctor. Surely her father would not have kept this from her.  

Almost unbidden, a slight headache forming, an old suspicion rose in her mind. Of when it became clear that she would one day go to Coruscant as the Senator of Alderaan. Her father had insisted she study meditation and the crafting of mental defenses with a mysterious woman who never gave her name. It had seemed like overkill at the time, and she’d thought so for many years after, until a few days ago in this very cell. Now she had to wonder… had he known?

“So, you had a teacher.” Vader said as if in response to her thoughts.

Was it even possible? Without the drugs? She fought against the urge to rub her forehead, eyes fixated on his hands for a reason she couldn’t explain.

The visible hand flexed again, the headache increasing, and this time she couldn’t stop the flinch. Her hands shot up without conscious thought as if to ward something off.

“In time, you will lead me to them.” He threatened. And she wanted to immediately deny him but the headache made it hard to string thoughts together and he continued, “Once Kenobi has led us to the Rebel base you’ll find I can be **very** convincing.”

“I won’t. He won’t!” She denied vehemently, indignation and anger temporarily clearing her headache.

Neck craned despite the pain to meet his eyes as he loomed over her, she glared with all the hatred she could muster. He slightly tilted his head, as if considering something.  

“The Force is strong with you.” He seemed to say more to himself than to her. Although how she knew that either spoke to how well she’d learned to read him through the multiple interrogations, or of something much more sinister, “Perhaps Kenobi thought to train you and the boy to defeat me. How very fitting then, for you to serve me.”

Leia sucked in a shocked breath, “You’ve lost your mind if you think I’ll join you.”

“You’ll find Princess, that when I want to be, I can be **most** persuasive.”

…

Yes there’s no happy endings, not here and not now, this tale is all sorrows and woes. You may dream that justice and peace win the day, but that’s not how the story goes.

 


End file.
